


won't let you choke (on the noose around your neck)

by violetvaria



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Bozer is a Good Bro, Codependency, Cuddling & Snuggling, Forehead Kisses, Gen, Jack is Team Dad, Mild Language, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Riley is a good sis, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Rivalry, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Werewolf AU, Werewolf Jack, Werewolf Mac, Werewolf Matty, Werewolf Senses, Wolf Jack, werewolf Riley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-08 21:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20842094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria
Summary: Mac survived being bitten and turned into a werewolf by Murdoc. He survived being kidnapped. He survived Murdoc's torture and rape.Now he has to survive recovery.Certain he doesn't deserve to have Jack constantly at his side, jealous of the close relationship Riley and Jack share, and wary of the tension between Jack and Bozer, Mac tries to navigate the road through recovery while also getting used to his new reality as a werewolf.~~~set in just_another_outcast's Nature of the Beast AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Nature of the Beast](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583332) by [just_another_outcast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_outcast/pseuds/just_another_outcast). 

> With thanks to the ever-generous and incredibly gifted just_another_outcast for allowing me to play in this universe! Reading [**Nature of the Beast**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583332) before (or instead of) this is HIGHLY recommended.
> 
> This was meant to be a cuddlefic and nothing more. It sort of spiraled out of control and is now a hot mess of PTSD and therapy and struggling relationships...and cuddling. Also, what I know about werewolf lore wouldn't fill a thimble, so my apologies to any werewolf enthusiasts.
> 
> Title is from [**The Cave**](https://youtu.be/IgDNCmGr-Q4) by Mumford & Sons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mild allusions to semi-unintentional self-harm

“Hello! Anybody home?” Riley used a heel to shut the front door and carefully carried the pie she had purchased toward the kitchen. She knew her way around Mac and Bozer’s place as well as she knew her own.

“Hey, Riley.” Bozer popped inside from the deck, where Riley could see the chairs were arranged around the firepit. “What kind’d you get?”

“Coconut cream,” Riley replied absently. “Where are Mac and Jack? Jack’s car was outside.”

Bozer rolled his eyes. “Can’t you hear ‘em?”

Riley cocked her head and finally placed what had seemed so _off_ when she’d walked in. Muffled shouting emanated from Mac’s bedroom. It was loud enough that even Bozer could hear it; Riley, with her sharpened senses, could make out the occasional word.

“Time for the weekly fight?” she sighed.

Bozer snorted. “Almost daily, at this point.”

“What is it this time?”

“You kidding? They only have one fight. Now, what they’re _pretending_ it’s about—beats me.”

Riley frowned. “They really need some time away from each other.”

Bozer huffed. “Yeah, good luck with that. If you’ve got some magic werewolf way of getting them to listen to you, have at it.”

“There’s no such thing as a magic werewolf way.”

“Sorry, half-werewolf.”

“Doesn’t change anything, Bozer.”

“Too bad. ‘Cause we could all use a break from…whatever _this_ is.”

_This_ was at that moment a crashing of glass that made both Riley and Bozer instinctively duck.

“What—” Riley looked toward Mac’s room with wide eyes.

Bozer just sighed. “Probably another mirror. Third one in two weeks. Guess we’re at the throwing-things stage.”

Riley was still staring down the hall. “Wow. Are they really like this every night?”

“Not every night, but yeah. More and more often. It goes on like this for a while, and then it gets real quiet, and then they come out like normal and act like everything’s fine.”

“I didn’t realize it had gotten so bad.” Riley turned back to her friend, brow creased. “I’m sorry, Bozer.”

Bozer waved a hand. “Not your fault. Not even _their_ fault. Not really.”

Riley bit her lip and nodded. “Didn’t Matty set them up with a therapist or something?”

Bozer confirmed, “Twice a week until Mac is healed up enough to go back to work. That’s probably one of the things that set this off, actually. Doctor days are tough.”

“Therapy is tough,” Riley agreed softly, and Bozer cut a quick glance at her. Riley shook off her thoughts. “They still going to the sessions together?”

“What do you think?”

“Yeah.” Riley sighed resignedly. “Not like they don’t both need it—not sure which one has a worse case of PTSD—but they’re just…just always…”

“They’re always in each other’s pockets,” Bozer finished. “Which is how we get the screaming meltdowns.”

Riley took a hesitant step toward the closed door. “Maybe I could just suggest a little break…”

“Hey, I’m not gonna try to stop a badass werewolf like yourself, but just warnin’ you. Last time I tried that, I got a lamp thrown at my head.”

Riley’s chin lifted. “Jack knows better than to try that with me.”

“That was Mac.”

“_Oh_.”

“Jack just threatened to rip off my ear if I kept it, and I quote, ‘plastered against the door,’ end quote.”

Riley wavered for a moment and then wheeled around to pick up the pie again. “You know what? I think _you’re_ the one who deserves a break. Let’s go.”

“What?”

“Yep. Here, take this.” She shoved the pink cardboard box into Bozer’s hands. “I’ll text Matty and Sam and tell them there’s been a change of venue.” She raised her voice. “Hey, we’re leaving! And we’re taking dessert with us!” She marched toward the door. “Come on, Boze.”

Bozer gaped at her for a moment, and then his face lit up. “You know what? You’re absolutely right!”

“Of course I am.”

He hurried after her, gleefully slamming the door behind them.

~~~

In Mac’s bedroom, two pairs of ears swiveled toward the sound of the door banging.

“See what you did?” Jack growled halfheartedly.

“Riley obviously didn’t want to be around you,” Mac returned in the same tone.

They both sighed and looked down at the floor.

“Wanna help me clean up this glass?” Jack finally said.

“You get the glass. I’ll see if the phone is salvageable.”

“Least it was your phone this time ‘stead of mine.”

“Yeah, well, you were making such a big deal of knowing—” Mac sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter.”

“I shouldn’ta pushed so hard, kid. I apologize for that.”

“No, Jack, don’t. It wasn’t your fault. I just—”

“Yeah.”

The two worked in silence until the shattered mirror was completely removed and Mac determined that his phone was fine apart from the cracked screen.

“Wanna eat something?” Jack offered a bit awkwardly, not quite at ease yet after their stormy interlude.

Mac wasn’t really in the mood, but he knew it hadn’t been a question, and he had no desire to start another argument tonight. He nodded silently, following Jack to the kitchen.

Jack dug in the fridge for anything Bozer might have left them, snatching a slice of ham to help satisfy his need for meat as he looked. He ripped the slice almost in half, automatically stretching his right hand back toward Mac. Mac rolled his eyes fondly and moved closer so he could take the smaller piece from Jack’s left hand, both of them stuffing the food in their mouths without regard for niceties like forks.

Working in tandem, they were able to find enough leftovers to satiate their hunger, and there was even a half-full package of sugar cookies in the cabinet, so they didn’t feel too bad about missing out on the dessert Riley had said she’d bring.

They ended up, as they usually did, slumped on the couch, leaning against each other.

“Guess one of us should text Bozer and apologize.”

Jack yawned. “Your turn.”

Before Mac could protest, Jack had morphed into full wolf, resting an enormous shaggy head innocently on Mac’s leg.

“Not fair,” Mac grumbled, hiding a smile. “You know I’m using your phone, so he’ll think it’s you anyway, right?”

The wolf huffed but didn’t move.

Message sent, Mac flopped down further, arms buried in the dense, rough fur of his companion. Jack lifted his head and licked Mac’s chin, eliciting a tiny giggle.

Jack had never spent much time completely in wolf form, but he had been doing so more often recently. Partly, this eased the strain on talking. They were together virtually 24/7, and even Jack needed a break from conversation once in a while. Mac also accepted grooming and licking from the wolf, even reciprocating by combing through the thick fur with his fingers. And it was sometimes easier for Mac to whisper what he was thinking into an alert lupine ear, knowing there would be no verbal response.

However, the biggest reason Jack had started changing more frequently was to eliminate the kid’s fear. Mac had been attacked by a full wolf, the only werewolf he had ever seen besides Jack who was capable of the powerful shift, and Jack desperately didn’t want Mac to forever associate _wolf_ with _pain_. He’d convinced the kid to revisit the trail where it had happened, and he was proud that it was Mac’s suggestion that took them back several more times. As Mac’s injuries healed, he was slowly clawing back pieces of his life.

But like a jigsaw puzzle scattered across a room, the pieces still didn’t fit together into a complete picture.

The wolf yawned widely, and a second later, Mac did as well. Jack dropped onto the floor, nudging the kid’s side with his nose.

“Yeah,” Mac agreed. “Guess I’ll take a shower before bed.”

He was glad Jack couldn’t reply. He knew that four showers in one day wasn’t normal, but it was an improvement over the near-constant bathing he had done when he’d finally been released to go home.

Jack yipped once as if in agreement and trotted next to Mac toward the bathroom.

“You can’t come in with me,” Mac protested, just as he did every time he showered. He wasn’t sure why this concept was so difficult for Jack to grasp.

The wolf whined.

“Fifteen minutes, okay?”

The wolf lifted a giant paw and placed it very gently on Mac’s knee.

“Yes, I’ll use the shower chair if I need to.”

With a quick, satisfied sweep of the tail, the wolf sat directly in front of the bathroom, letting out a soft bark as Mac began to close the door.

“_Stop worrying_. I’ll leave it unlocked.”

Appeased, the wolf settled down to wait.

Alone at last, Mac brushed his teeth and then quickly stripped and hopped into the shower, ignoring the chair as he had every time before. Jack wouldn’t let him into the bathroom alone without it, but Mac always forced himself to remain upright, even during the final shower of the day when his legs were tired and sore.

He scrubbed fiercely with a bar of soap, faintly bitter that the smooth surface didn’t hurt. After the second time he had drawn blood with a loofah, Jack had removed everything in the bathroom that could even conceivably cause injury, starting with the razor blades and ending with the toilet-paper holder, leaving the roll of paper just sitting on top of the tank. Without commenting, Jack had also hidden Mac’s Swiss Army knife, as if he were hoping the kid wouldn’t notice.

Mac knew where Jack had buried it in the backyard, but it wasn’t worth fighting about, not while he was still on medical leave. Jack was perfectly content for him to have any tools he wanted while working on projects around the house, as long as he was in full view while using them.

In turn, Jack knew that it was impossible to make a room truly “Mac-proof.” He had done his best, even replacing the perfectly serviceable bath towels with the softest, most luxurious one-hundred-percent-Egyptian-cotton ones he could find, but Mac would always find a way to do what he wanted to do. It wasn’t as if the newborn wolf didn’t have claws of his own if he really wanted to hurt himself; it was for this reason only that Jack was grateful the kid hadn’t shifted since he—since they had found him. So Jack tried to trust the kid, he really did, but he couldn’t keep himself from pacing outside the bathroom door every time Mac was out of his sight.

Mac finished his shower, stepping out onto the bathmat and then sitting on the closed toilet seat to give his aching legs a rest. He could hear the padding of four feet outside the door, so Jack was still in wolf form. Good. He’d be more likely to give some leeway on the fifteen-minute deadline if he had to shift before he could say anything.

Jack’s default setting these days was worried, which had turned him into even more of a mother hen than he’d been before. He spent most of his time fussing over the kid, checking his slowly fading scars, pushing food and water onto him, or contradictorily encouraging him to exercise and to rest. When Mac deviated even slightly from instructions, Jack scolded him, so clearly more panicked than angry that Mac generally couldn’t rouse himself to argue.

After all, the whole ordeal had been hard on Jack too.

Mac eventually released the fluffy towel and put on a clean t-shirt and pajama pants, but he wasn’t able to convince himself to open the door just yet. Jack would immediately sniff for traces of blood, which Mac could usually tolerate. Although most of their fights started with Mac accusing Jack of being overbearing, Jack hotly retorting that Mac wouldn’t take care of himself if someone didn’t make him, the truth was that Mac mostly didn’t mind Jack’s constant presence. It was…kind of nice, actually. Safe.

He just didn’t deserve it.

The knock finally came, just as Mac had known it would.

“Bud? You okay?”

At least Jack’s tone was mild, indicating he wasn’t about to walk in.

“Give me a minute,” Mac called back, face in his hands and elbows on his knees.

What must have been exactly sixty seconds later, there was another knock.

“Kid? Startin’ to worry me there. You all finished?”

Mac groaned and stood. If he waited any longer, Jack would burst in and probably insist on _carrying_ him to bed.

Bracing himself for a lecture, he opened the door just as Jack had his fist raised to knock again.

“Hey, there you are.”

“Couldn’t even manage fifteen minutes without me?” Mac snarked.

Jack froze. “Mac, it’s been thirty-five minutes,” he said slowly.

“No, it ha—” Mac glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Mac looked down at his feet. “Sorry.”

An arm was instantly wrapped around his shoulders. “Hey, no, it’s fine, all right? No big deal at all. No worries. Was just—” Jack blew out a breath. “Aw, hell, what am I even sayin’? You scared me, kid.”

“S—”

“I know you didn’t mean to.” Mac could tell Jack had been discreetly sniffing for any hint of bleeding. “You all right? Just maybe get lost in that ginormous brain of yours?”

It seemed easiest to agree. Mac nodded tiredly.

“Okay. A good night’s sleep’ll help with that, right, baby wolf?”

“Don’t call me that,” Mac mumbled, allowing himself to be guided toward the bed.

“Sure thing, pup. In you go.” Jack waited until the kid was curled under the comforter. “I’ll brush my teeth quick, okay?”

“Good. Don’t need wolf breath in my face first thing in the morning.”

Jack scowled down at the kid, who already had his eyes closed. “Man, you’re lucky I love you.”

Mac didn’t open his eyes, but he smiled a little. “I know.” He felt Jack’s hand float near his face, and he tilted his head enough to demonstrate he was aware of its proximity. The hand promptly sank into the wet blond hair, stroking gently.

Mac wasn’t sure which was worse: if Jack surprised him with an unexpected touch, or this never-ending hesitance, awaiting permission to do what he had done for years without either of them giving it a second thought. Jack never walked up behind the kid and clapped him on the back anymore. He didn’t playfully punch Mac’s shoulder or use the kid as an armrest. He didn’t cup his kid’s face in his hands, tap him on the nose to tease him, or grab him up in a bear hug. He didn’t do any of the things Mac had become accustomed to, not without signaling first, or waiting for tacit consent, or—worst of all—outright asking if it was okay.

Mac hated it.

But when Bozer had flung his arms around his returning roommate, Mac had almost thrown him across the room, so clearly unanticipated touching was off the table.

Jack raced through his nightly routine, deciding that he didn’t really need to floss, and that one minute of really vigorous brushing was probably as good as the recommended two. He practically threw the toothbrush down in his haste to return to Mac.

He wasn’t entirely sure which of them had worse separation anxiety. (Their therapist was beginning to hint at words like _codependency_, somehow making it sound like a bad thing.) Jack’s heartrate tripled when he was away from Mac for more than a few minutes, blood pressure spiking as his senses sharpened, watching, listening, _feeling_ for his kid. Mac, on the other hand, tended to curl into an increasingly smaller ball, hiding under or behind any nearby objects and remaining eerily still—so still and quiet that if Jack didn’t have such a keen sense of smell, he might not notice the kid right away.

He rushed back into the bedroom, relieved that he hadn’t been gone long. Mac was only just starting to huddle into himself, fingers pleating the edge of the comforter. He visibly relaxed when he saw Jack.

“Miss me, pup?” Jack tried teasing lightly, lifting the blankets so he could slide in.

“Mm,” Mac grouched, barely waiting for Jack to get settled before rolling over and tucking himself into the man’s side.

Jack let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, carding his fingers through the soft blond hair. “Hey, we’re gonna be okay, you know?” he whispered, lips ghosting in a caress along the kid’s hairline.

Mac’s fist curled in Jack’s t-shirt.

“Kid? You hear me?”

Mac grunted in response.

“All right. I’ll take that.” Jack dropped another kiss into the kid’s hair, secure in the knowledge that Mac was too close to sleep to protest. “Night, kiddo.”

~~~

Bozer and Riley stayed out with Matty and Cage for a few hours. Riley was pleased Sam had decided to stick around while she healed up; she was growing fond of the Aussie. Bozer was still a bit intimidated, but he was on a mission to learn as much as he could, and when he cross-examined Matty about all things werewolf-related, she answered straightforwardly, even emotionlessly sharing how she had been turned.

After dinner, Riley said she would go back to the house with Bozer.

“Aw, you worried about me?”

“Shut up, Bozer.”

“Not saying a word, my sweet were-princess.”

Neither acknowledged that they were actually concerned about Mac.

Once inside, Bozer went straight to the kitchen while Riley headed for Mac’s bedroom.

“They ate!” Bozer called. “Hey, even did the dishes. They must’ve really felt bad.” He hadn’t bothered responding to Jack’s apology. Although nothing could make Bozer abandon Mac, he still wasn’t sure how he felt now about his best friend’s self-appointed guardian. Jack had always vowed to watch over the kid, and Bozer had started trusting that he would do so. And then to find out the two of them had been keeping such a huge secret from him…

Riley had her ear pressed up to Mac’s door. “I think they’re asleep.” She smiled suddenly. “Okay, Jack isn’t.” Her sensitive ears had picked up Jack’s murmured invitation. She paused, looking back at Bozer. “I’m…just going to check on them.”

Bozer waved a hand. “Go ahead. I’m going to bed. If Mac’s awake, you can tell him I’ll see him in the morning.”

Riley’s lips twisted, but she nodded. “Night, Bozer.” She slipped silently inside the bedroom.

As expected, Jack was tracking every movement, glowing eyes flickering in approval when Riley closed the door firmly.

“How was dinner?” Jack asked quietly, careful not to wake the kid in his arms.

“It was good,” Riley replied at the same volume, trying to visually inspect Mac. Beyond the lump under the blankets, she couldn’t see anything more than a tuft of blond hair on Jack’s shoulder.

“He’s asleep,” Jack assured her. “You can come on over.” He stretched out one arm.

Riley hesitated only a moment, checking once again to be sure she wasn’t disturbing Mac’s much-needed rest. Then she crawled up onto the bed and let Jack pull her close. She didn’t need as much physical contact with her pack as a purebred wolf did, but it was still nice to breathe in the scents of her family, to hear two heartbeats that had regulated to the same rhythm.

She rested her head on Jack’s free shoulder. “Guess your fight is over.”

“We weren’t fighting,” Jack reproved, tightening his arm around her.

“Sure you weren’t. You break a mirror just by looking at it?”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “Hey!” he finally managed, swatting at her gently.

Riley giggled, muffling the sound in Jack’s shirt when Mac stirred. Jack immediately rubbed his kid’s back, mumbling into Mac’s ear so quietly Riley couldn’t make out more than a hum, feeling the vibration of speech in Jack’s chest.

When Mac stilled, Riley reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, trailing her fingers in front of Mac’s nose first so his subconscious would recognize her scent and not react to the touch as a danger. Jack squeezed her in approval.

“Bozer said he’s been throwing things.”

Jack stilled.

“That’s…not like him, Jack.”

“’S not his fault.”

Riley twisted to rest her chin on Jack’s chest so he could see her expression of disbelief.

“It’s not,” Jack insisted. “I—he was—he kept texting somebody, and it was upsettin’ him, and I kept pushin’ him to tell me what was goin’ on, and…it was my fault. I shouldn’ta pushed him so hard.”

Riley’s eyes widened. “He threw his _phone_ at the mirror?”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to say anything to him about it, all right?”

Riley sighed and dropped her cheek back onto Jack’s shirt. “It was Matty.”

“What?”

“Matty said Mac was texting her all afternoon, asking when he could get back to work.”

Jack groaned. “Aw, kid…”

“He’s—going to come back, right, Jack?”

Jack responded instantly to the fear in her voice. “’Course he is, sweetheart. He’s tough. He’ll be all right.” With one arm, he rolled her up and over until she was on Mac’s other side, arms draped across her brother’s back. “See? He’s all right. Just needs a little time.”

Riley was silent for a moment, pressing her nose into the nape of Mac’s neck to inhale his scent. Jack reached across the boy between them to rest his hand on Riley’s dark curls.

“Guess we all need some time,” Riley finally whispered.

Jack made a noise of assent.

“Bozer…” Riley hesitated and started over. “Did Mac really throw a lamp at him?”

Jack winced. “Think he _wanted_ to throw it at me. Boze just picked the wrong time to walk in.”

“Jack—”

“No, hey, I gave him a good talking-to, and he apologized to Bozer. He won’t do it again, don’t worry.”

“_Jack_. I’m not worried about us. Bozer isn’t either. He isn’t holding a grudge.” _Not against Mac, anyway_. “We’re worried about Mac.”

Jack removed his hand from Riley’s hair to card through Mac’s. “He’ll be all right,” he finally repeated stubbornly, but Riley could hear the doubt in his voice. “Just needs to get more rest than he has been. So do I. You wanna stay?”

Riley knew the discussion was closed for now. She shrugged and snuggled deeper under the covers, arms still wrapped around her brother. “Maybe for a while.”

“Okay.” Jack tugged Mac, and by extension Riley, a little closer into his side. “Night, honey.”

Riley shut her eyes, but she was careful not to fall asleep. They all knew Mac was still having nightmares, and he wouldn’t appreciate anyone other than Jack bearing witness to them.

She waited until she was certain Jack had drifted off, his grip on his kids not loosening. She carefully peeled Jack’s hand off her shoulder and transferred it to Mac’s ribcage before climbing off the bed.

On her way to the front door, she passed Bozer, who was sitting on the couch staring sightlessly at the TV.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Couldn’t sleep?”

It took a minute until Bozer lifted his head indifferently. “Hey.”

“They’re asleep.”

Bozer nodded. “I figured.”

Riley shuffled. “You know, I’m sorry about—you know—keeping all this from you.”

After another pause, Bozer summoned a smile. “It’s not on you. We haven’t known each other that long. Not like—”

“You know it killed him to hide it from you. He only did it—”

“Yeah, yeah, to keep me safe. See how well that worked out for him?”

“That wasn’t—”

“If we hadn’t fought about him keeping secrets, he wouldn’t have even been out there in the first place.”

Riley slumped. “Bozer…”

“You know it’s true, Riley. Jack knows it too.”

“Jack?”

“He’s never going to forgive me for putting Mac in danger.” Bozer snorted. “Maybe he shouldn’t. But _he_ was the one who wouldn’t let Mac just talk to me, just trust me—”

“Hey.” Riley sat down and put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You—I don’t even know where to start. Like, everything you said was just…_wrong_.”

“Huh?”

Riley took a deep breath. “It was _totally_ not your fault that Mac was attacked. Murdoc was targeting him specifically.” Her voice wobbled, but she forced herself to continue. “If it hadn’t been that night, it would have been sometime. It wasn’t like we could keep a 24-hour guard on him.”

Bozer’s eyes flicked toward the bedroom, where Jack was attempting to do exactly that.

“And Jack doesn’t blame you. Neither does Mac.” Riley brushed her hair back, frustrated. “They probably both blame themselves, actually. But not you.”

“But I should have—”

“Hey, Boze, just don’t, okay? We could play the _should’ve_ game all night.” Riley didn’t mention that they both probably already had, for far too many nights. “The only person we should blame is Murdoc. Okay?”

Bozer nodded slowly, and Riley slumped down into the cushions.

“You don’t really think Jack was making Mac keep secrets from you, do you?”

Bozer stared at his hands. “No, I guess not. It’s just…he used to tell me everything. _Everything_. We never had secrets. Not until…”

“You know that was a decision way above us—above Matty, even. In fact, we could probably still get in trouble if anyone knows how much you know.”

“Yeah? So what’ll happen? You won’t be super-secret werewolf-hunters anymore? Doesn’t sound so bad if Mac never goes back.”

“Don’t say that,” Riley snapped. Then her face softened. “You know what? Maybe you’re right. But…Mac really wants to go back to work. And he’s _good_ at it, you know?”

Bozer scoffed. “Of course he is. He’d be good at anything. So why does he have to do something that—something that—”

Riley leaned against Bozer’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe he just really wants to help people.”

“Yeah. That’s our boy all right.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes.

“You know he tries to take care of everybody but himself.”

Riley half-smiled. “That’s why he’s got his very own helicopter parent.”

Bozer managed a laugh. “Yeah, but…I don’t know, Ri. It’s been over two weeks, and I know you don’t just get over something like that, but as far as I can see, the only thing that’s changed is he gives the water a chance to warm up between showers. I haven’t had any hot water in—”

“You can shower at my place if you want.”

Bozer was startled enough that he laughed again. “You know, I might take you up on that.”

“You’re right, though. He needs more help than he’s been getting. Jack is…Jack is pretty messed up right now too.”

“Yeah. No kidding.”

“Cut it out, Bozer. Jack would tear off his arm if it would help Mac and you know it.”

Bozer looked contrite. “Yeah, I know, you’re right.”

“Maybe Matty can get something from their therapist about how to help,” Riley mused.

“Isn’t that supposed to be, like, private?”

“If anyone can find a way around that, it’s Matty,” Riley said confidently. “Plus, I think Jack would waive confidentiality if we say it’s to help Mac. And Mac would probably give permission if he thought it would get him back to work sooner.”

Bozer nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Riley looked up, considering his tone. “Hey, Bozer? You know you’re going to be…important to his—to help him, right?”

Bozer said nothing.

“Hey, how about you come with me tomorrow and we’ll talk to Matty together?”

“Nah, don’t want to get in your way.”

“I’m serious, man. You need to be part of this too. You’re—just as much his family as any of us.”

Bozer twitched one shoulder.

“So you’ll come? And we’ll figure out how to help?”

Bozer held up his hands. “You win. We’ll meet up tomorrow.”

Riley stood. “Good. I’m gonna head out then.” At the door, she paused. “Hey, Boze?”

“Yeah?”

“You know you’re my family too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of convenience, I decided that when Jack shifts from human to wolf form and back, his clothes magically change with him. That is, when he is a wolf, his clothes disappear, and when he reverts to human, they are back in place. Please forgive this slight deviance from just_another_outcast's thrilling [**Nature of the Beast**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583332).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: mention of nightmares, mention of blood, unhealthy codependency (not really sure any of those need warnings, but just in case)

Jack was pulled from slumber by the soft whimper in his ear. He was awake instantly, hands trying to soothe the kid before his brain even caught up with the nightly routine.

“It’s okay, kiddo. You’re here, you’re safe, you’re all right.”

Mac was still trapped in the nightmare, beginning to thrash against the arms holding him, an inhuman whine piercing the quiet of the night.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, hating everything about this situation. Of course the kid would have one of the really bad nightmares tonight. After their therapist had poked and prodded insistently at them earlier, how could he not?

Mac’s arm shot forward, and only Jack’s quick reflexes kept him from being struck. If he didn’t do something soon, he’d wind up a bloody mess when the pup’s claws came out, something that happened only when he was asleep. Last time, Jack hadn’t been prepared, finally forced to throw himself on top of the kid and pin him down until he woke up, which hadn’t done either of their mental states any good. The deep gashes on Jack’s neck and chest also didn’t help.

Jack had never before been thankful for separation anxiety, but their need to be constantly close to each other worked in his favor when a guilty Mac tried to leave the house, claiming he couldn’t be trusted and wasn’t good enough to stay with his friends. He only made it to the end of the driveway before he started shaking, and though he would have stubbornly persisted, it had given Jack a chance to catch up with him and use a garbled mess of pleas and threats to get him to come back inside.

Jack wouldn’t make the mistake of letting it go that far this time.

“Mac. Son, wake up. Come on, you can do it.” Jack shook one thin shoulder. “Let’s go, buddy, time to wake up. Wherever you are, that isn’t real. You’re at home, Mac. You’re here with me. You’re safe.”

Mac was moving even more restlessly, but he wasn’t waking, and Jack could see his fingers starting to meld into claws. He made a snap decision and morphed into wolf form.

The wolf stood on the mattress and leaned down to lick Mac, rough tongue thoroughly sopping the blond hair and pale face.

Whether it was the hot breath or the wetness, Jack wasn’t sure, but Mac’s eyes flew open, all traces of werewolf disappearing.

“Wha—” he gasped and then relaxed. “Oh. Jack.”

The wolf licked his face again.

“Stop it. Why are you—” Mac sighed and sat up partway. “I was having a nightmare, wasn’t I?” He raised a hand to fend off another lick. “I’m already covered in wolf spit, thanks.”

The wolf chortled, a low rumbling sound.

Mac smiled slightly. “Sorry to wake you up.”

No. Jack wouldn’t allow that. He put a massive paw on the kid’s shoulder, nuzzling his hair in a grooming ritual that relaxed him and which Mac usually allowed.

Mac pushed at him halfheartedly, stopped at Jack’s warning growl, and slumped back down to the mattress.

“Made your point,” he sighed. “Pack is family, and you’ll do anything for your family.”

The wolf made a satisfied sound and moved down to wash the kid’s neck.

Mac giggled when Jack reached the sensitive spot under his chin. “Hey, _stop_ already. I’m too tired to shower right now.”

This was the best news Jack could hear, and he whined in pleasure, flopping down to trap the kid’s arm and resting his head on Mac’s chest.

“You going to stay like that?” Mac murmured.

Jack just flicked his ears in response.

“Fine,” Mac huffed, winding his arms around his furry companion. “Then you can’t complain that I don’t listen to you, ‘cause I don’t speak wolf.”

The wolf lazily swiped a tongue across Mac’s chin again, worming further on top of the kid in a clear directive to sleep in their small wolf pile.

“Nope,” Mac mumbled hazily. “I’m not getting what you’re saying at all.”

Jack lifted his head to glare, but Mac’s eyes were already closed.

~~~

Mac woke first the next morning, smiling when he realized a wolf was snoozing contentedly mostly on top of him. The heavy animal was trapping him in bed, but Mac didn’t mind. He wouldn’t have gotten up until Jack awoke anyway. The first one up never had to wait long—they tended to rouse within a few minutes of each other.

Sure enough, shortly after Mac began gently combing the thick fur with his fingers, the wolf yawned directly in his face and flicked out his tongue, catching Mac’s cheek.

“Yeah, good morning,” Mac grumbled. “Mind moving so I can go wash my face?”

The wolf whined dramatically and rolled to the side as though he were being terribly inconvenienced.

“Whatever. I’m taking a shower.”

And just like that, Jack was in human form. “Fifteen minutes?”

“Yes, Jack.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed at the aggravated tone. “For real this time? Want me to set a timer for you?”

“Jack. I’ll be right back, okay? Relax.”

He left Jack muttering something about never being able to relax when a scrawny little genius was always worrying him, but he tuned out the familiar rant.

As promised, Mac was in and out of the bathroom quickly, and Jack took his turn in the shower while Mac puttered around the room, straightening up a little. Half of the closet and one of the dresser drawers were now unofficially Jack’s, but he kept his belongings military-grade neat. Mac wasn’t messy, but he did collect random bits of broken items to be used in various projects that were strewn about the house. This had instigated the fight a few days ago that made Bozer try to intervene. Jack had been moving some of Mac’s “junk,” as he called it, Mac had accused him of disrespecting his space, and things had devolved from there.

Mac remembered picking up the lamp as an example of things he could fix, and somehow it had gotten heaved in Bozer’s direction when he’d interrupted to ask if they were okay. Mac still felt bad about that, but Bozer never stayed mad at him for long. He’d even forgiven Mac for keeping his job a secret. Mac didn’t deserve a friend like him.

During their counseling session yesterday, Mac had admitted that having someone else moving his things—when Mac knew exactly where everything was—made him feel out of control, helpless. Jack had fallen over himself apologizing, swearing to never move anything again without telling Mac first. Then the kid felt bad for making Jack feel bad.

Therapy was not going so well for them.

“Ready for breakfast, bud?” Jack breezed out of the bathroom, looking refreshed.

Bozer was gone already. Mac looked around curiously.

“Was Riley here last night? I mean, late?”

“Yeah, she dropped in to say hi.” Jack watched the kid from the corner of his eye as he pulled some eggs from the refrigerator. “Why?”

“Just thought I smelled her.”

Jack hid a smile. The young wolf was still getting used to his heightened senses.

“Whatcha wanna do today?” Jack asked casually as they ate.

Mac shrugged. “Thought we’d go for a run first. If that’s okay.”

Jack was never sure if Mac were asking permission or asking if Jack was okay with the suggested activity. It wasn’t as though Jack had ever refused their near-daily run. Even though he was pretty sure it was mostly an excuse for the kid to shower again, it got them out of the house for a while, and with Mac still feeling the lingering effects of his broken legs, Jack could keep pace with him for once.

He tried not to let that hurt too much.

“Sure, kid. Sounds good.”

Ninety minutes later, they were back at the house, freshly showered and changed.

“I’m gonna have to do laundry soon.”

Mac gestured vaguely down the hall. “You want to do it now?”

Jack leaned against the doorframe. “Unless you’ve got somethin’ else you wanna do.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Need me to show you how to use the machine again?”

“Smartass. Here.” Jack tossed a bag toward Mac’s face.

Mac snatched the bag out of the air. “Gross, Jack. This has your dirty underwear in it.” He followed Jack down the hall, still complaining. “Why do I have to carry it?”

“’Cause you’re the one who made the washing machine too freakin’ complicated for a normal person to use,” Jack shot back.

“Bozer can use it.”

“I said normal.” Jack grinned when he heard the kid sputter a laugh. “Hey, don’t tell him I said that, all right? He ain’t too fond of me as it is. ‘Sides, you actually let him video you demonstrating. I don’t get that courtesy?”

Mac shrugged, tossing the laundry on the floor in front of the machine. “Would you follow the directions if I did?”

“Probably not.”

Both satisfied that they had convincingly provided reasons they needed to do laundry together—it _wasn’t_ because they couldn’t be separated—they turned their attention to the washing machine.

“You could just get some more stuff from your apartment, you know,” Mac said nonchalantly, careful not to look straight at Jack.

Jack tried to match the offhand tone. “Yeah, maybe so.” He nearly choked on the unspoken questions. How long would he be staying with Mac? Should he even keep his apartment? Did Mac want him to move in permanently? How would Bozer feel about that? Did Jack even want to?

Okay, the last question was easy to answer. If it was what Mac wanted, Jack would do anything.

“Hey, that’s an idea. We could stay at my place tonight. Whaddya think? Give Boze a little break?”

Mac frowned. “What is with you two?”

“What?”

“That’s the second time this morning you’ve acted like Bozer doesn’t want you around.”

Jack shrugged. “Can’t hardly blame him for that.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Jack.”

“And you know that how?”

“Because I know Bozer.”

“Yeah, and he knows you. At least, he _thought_ he did. And then you drop this giant bomb on him and—” Jack’s voice hitched. “Kinda blew his world apart, son.” _And mine._

Mac stared at the floor. “I’m s—”

“No.”

Jack’s arms were around him in an instant, and he breathed in Jack’s scent under the “meadow breeze” aroma of the laundry detergent.

“Hey, no one is blaming you,” Jack murmured, threading his fingers into the soft blond hair and scratching blunt nails gently along the kid’s scalp. Mac melted against him. “None of this—not one single second—was your fault.”

“You say that, but if—”

“No. If that voice in your head is tellin’ you any different, then you need to get checked out to make sure you’re still a genius.” Jack grabbed Mac’s shoulders and held him slightly away so he could look him in the eyes. “You listening to me?”

Mac nodded once very slightly.

“Not. Your. Fault.” Jack pulled the kid to him again, cradling the back of his head. He wouldn’t say it out loud because it would bother Mac, but Jack knew perfectly well that any fault that didn’t lie at Murdoc’s door—which was most of it—rested squarely on Jack.

_Should never have left him alone after he got turned. I promised to take care of him. Did a great job of that, huh?_

“But you and Bozer—” Mac was protesting again, voice muffled in Jack’s collar.

“Seriously, kiddo. It isn’t you. We’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

“You’re not mad at him?”

“Mad at Boze? Like I could ever be mad at him. He’s almost as much of a puppy as you are.”

“’M not a puppy.”

“Uh-huh. Tell that to someone who hasn’t seen you spend five minutes chewing on a shoe.”

Mac let go of Jack to aim a glare. “It was the shoe_lace_! I was trying to undo a knot, and—”

Jack held up his hands. “Whatever you say, pup.”

Mac resolutely turned his back and focused on the washing machine as it finished the cycle.

As they were moving the wet clothes into the dryer, Mac picked up an earlier thread of conversation. “Do you think Bozer’s mad at you?”

Jack’s movements slowed as he tossed a pair of boxers into the machine. “Yeah, kid. Pretty sure he is. I don’t blame him for that, and I don’t want you to either, all right?”

“But why? You weren’t the one keeping secrets from him.”

“Sure I was, same as you. And yeah, I haven’t known him as long as you, but he’s still family, you know? And it’s maybe worse ‘cause of the whole, y’know, shapeshifting thing.”

“You’re not a shapeshifter,” Mac groused.

“Plus,” Jack went on, ignoring the interruption, “hard as it is to believe, some people don’t really care for Jack Dalton as a permanent houseguest.” He refused to say aloud that the biggest reason Bozer was probably angry was because Jack hadn’t protected Mac.

Bozer had every right to blame Jack for that.

Mac bit his lip. “That’s my—”

“If you say it’s your fault, I’m gonna smack you with this sock.” Jack held up the wet sock warningly, but when Mac snapped his mouth shut, Jack grunted in satisfaction and threw the sock into the dryer.

When all the clothes were finally in place, Jack spoke again.

“Anyway, wouldn’t hurt to give him a little break, right? So you good with staying with me tonight?”

Mac considered suggesting they spend the night apart, but the mere thought chilled him. He _knew_ if he wanted to get back to work, he couldn’t be glued to Jack’s side, but small steps. Starting off with a whole night apart would just wipe out any progress they had made.

“Yeah, Jack. That sounds good.”

“Okay.” Jack tapped the edge of a laundry basket with his foot, nudging it closer to the dryer. “Um, kid…”

“What?” Mac prompted impatiently.

“Well, I was just thinkin’…” Jack trailed off again, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

“That’s a first,” Mac snarked.

“Hey!” Jack couldn’t keep from grinning. “Where’s that sock?”

“You gonna share your inaugural thought, old man?”

“Hm, nope. Little boys with no manners don’t get any Jack Dalton wisdom.”

“So you’re saying I can get you to shut up by being rude?”

“Okay, that’s it. No ice cream for you tonight.”

“What?”

“Yep.” Jack crossed his arms. “I’ve got a great big carton of strawberry swirl in my freezer, and I’m gonna eat it right in front of you.”

“You—that—but—”

Jack grinned triumphantly. Mac’s guppy impression was pretty darn cute. It wasn’t often the kid was at a loss for words, but sometimes he had so many thoughts in his head, his mouth short-circuited trying to express them all.

“Whatever,” Mac settled on. Jack would probably forget his threat by tonight anyway. “What were you going to say?”

Damn. Should have figured Mac would remember that. Jack had regretted it as soon as he’d started and had been happy to be diverted.

“What?”

Mac’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play innocent, Jack. _What_ were you thinking?”

“Dude, who gave you interrogation training? ‘Cause—”

“_You_ did, and I know where you sleep, so spill.”

“It’s nothing, kid. Let’s just drop it, all right?”

“It isn’t nothing. You were clearly thinking about it a lot. And Dr. Lightfeld said we’re not supposed to be keeping secrets that don’t need to be kept.”

“Didn’t know you actually listened to her,” Jack deflected.

“Probably better than you do. So stop thinking you’re protecting me by not saying whatever it is, and just _say_ it already, because waiting is just making it worse—” The kid’s voice wobbled, and Jack felt like the lowest of the low.

“I’m sorry.” Once again, Jack reached out for the kid, tucking him into his shoulder and stroking his ear with his thumb. “I’m sorry, buddy, it’s nothing bad, and I shouldn’t’ve made you think so.”

“Then what is it?” Mac’s voice was muffled in Jack’s shirt, but he was persistent.

Jack sighed. “I was just gonna suggest—if you wanted to—that maybe—if you felt like it—you might—”

“Just say it, Jack.”

“Maybe you wanna spend some time with Bozer.” There. He’d said it.

Mac looked up, underwhelmed. “I do spend time with Bozer. We had breakfast together yesterday. Remember?”

“Yeah, no, I meant…without me there.”

Mac froze. “You don’t want—”

“No. Stop. This is not about you an’ me, all right? If it were up to me, you’d never be outta my sight.” He felt the kid’s relieved sigh against his collarbone. “I am gonna be by your side every second you want me there, got it?”

It took a moment, but finally Mac whispered, “Okay.”

“I was just thinkin’ that Boze probably misses you. That’s all. He hasn’t had you to himself since—in a long while. No wonder he’s startin’ to resent me takin’ up all your time.”

Mac frowned. “Would he stop being mad at you if—”

“Mac. This ain’t about me an’ Bozer either. This is about you. You spendin’ some time with a good friend. If you want to.”

Mac was still frowning. “You know how I feel about Bozer. Of course I want to spend time with him. Just…”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere until you’re ready,” Jack assured instantly. “I’m sure as hell not ready to let go of you, son, so it’s gonna be hard.”

“But one step at a time?”

“It would make the doc happy, wouldn’t it?”

Mac snuggled a little closer. “She’s not going to be impressed no matter how many times you tell her about tracking three separate werewolf trails through the Andes.”

“We caught all three, didn’t we? And—hey, not like I’m tryna impress her. She’s about a hundred years old.”

“She’s only ten years older than you, Jack. So I guess a hundred and ten.”

Jack squawked while Mac snickered.

The dryer buzzed, and the topic was shelved as they took Jack’s laundry back to the bedroom. Mac watched, fiddling with his cracked phone, while Jack folded the clothes and put them away.

Jack closed the drawer with a solid _thump_. “Time for lunch, bud?”

Mac stood, pocketing his phone. “Yeah.” He’d had a difficult time eating while he was stuck in medical, so much so that Jack had literally forced food on him. When he’d come home, Jack had put him on a strict three-meals-a-day schedule, the only thing on which he and Bozer agreed completely. It had been less difficult than they’d expected. Mac was always with Jack, so if Jack ate, Mac would too.

After lunch, Mac took out his phone again and frowned at it.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I think I could fix the screen.”

“Yeah? I figured you could.”

“But…I don’t have everything I need here.”

“Okay. Whaddya need? We can go get it.”

Mac fidgeted. “No, I’d need…equipment and stuff. At the Phoenix lab.”

Jack studied him silently.

“Sorry. I know I’m not supposed to—”

“No, no one ever said you couldn’t be there, son.”

“But Matty—”

“Said you weren’t ready for an assignment. She’s right. I ain’t ready either. But that don’t mean you can’t go geek out in the lab with June.”

“Jill.”

“Do you…want to go? I’ll drive you, if you want.”

Mac was deconstructing a paper napkin, tearing off pieces decreasing in size by exact quarter-inch increments. “Yeah. It’ll be fine. I mean, we’ve been going there for—for our appointments, right?”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed slowly. “It’s the same place it’s always been. Takin’ a break doesn’t change that.”

When the napkin was completely shredded, Mac nodded decisively and pushed his chair back. “Let’s go.”

In the car, Mac asked tentatively, “What if it isn’t just a break?”

Jack’s hand dropped from the keys he’d just put in the ignition. “What?”

Mac was staring straight ahead. “You said we’re taking a break. But what if this is it? What if we never go back?”

Jack bit the inside of his cheek to keep from replying too quickly. “Is that what you want? We don’t have to go back.”

“No, Jack, you can—”

“Gonna stop you right there, kid. Where you go, I go, remember? I don’t care where that is, long as I’m with you.”

“You sound like a sappy song,” Mac teased, but his eyes were watery.

“Well, I’ll sing it for ya if—”

“No! No, I’m good.”

“Yeah, you are.” Jack started the car, enjoying the rumbling of the engine. After driving a few blocks in silence, he said, “If it’s what you want to do, we _will_ get back there. Even if it takes a little time. And if you don’t want to work with Phoenix anymore, I’m good with that too.” He glanced over at his passenger. “You hear me, Mac?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. You believe me?”

“I—I’m trying.”

“Okay.” Jack patted the kid’s shoulder. “That’s a good start. How ‘bout we listen to some tunes? I’ll even let you pick.”

They spent the rest of the drive with the radio blasting and the top down, soaking in the warm breeze and sunshine.

~~~

The Phoenix lab had been a good choice, Jack decided. Jill was happy to see them but didn’t fuss over Mac, giving him access to the equipment he wanted and leaving them in peace. Jack had the kid explain what he was doing as he worked, partly because it had been far too long since he’d heard Mac rambling about things Jack didn’t understand, and partly to help the jittery young werewolf focus. Mac was oddly jumpy, and it was making Jack anxious as well.

When they left the lab, Jack caught the scent before Mac did and realized what had been making him nervous. Walking in, the kid must have detected an odor too faint to identify but enough to signal his subconscious that something was amiss.

Bozer was at Phoenix.

Jack wondered if he could get Mac outside before he recognized the scent this time, or if he even should. He hesitated too long.

“Bozer?” Mac’s nose had lifted, and he was looking around. “Lobby,” he said finally, a clear command for Jack to lead the way there.

Jack sighed but did as he was directed.

“He’s with Riley,” Mac mumbled as they sped toward the lobby. “And Matty. And…Dr. Lightfeld?”

Jack had a really bad feeling about this.

As they burst into the lobby, they spotted Dr. Lightfeld shaking hands with Riley and then turning to extend a hand to Bozer.

“Boze?” Mac was panting, far more than their brief sprint warranted, and as he stepped in front of his partner, Jack put a hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him. Mac didn’t seem to notice.

Bozer spun around, pulling away from the psychiatrist, his eyes wide. “Mac! What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here? And—” Mac swallowed and studied the group in front of him. Dr. Lightfeld looked as collected as ever, Matty was scowling, Riley was staring at the floor guiltily, and Bozer…Bozer had the same concerned expression he’d been wearing since Mac had come home. “Are you guys talking about me?”

Matty opened her mouth, but Bozer beat her to the punch.

“Yes.” He met Mac’s eyes unflinchingly. “You’re not okay, Mac, and we wanna help you.”

Mac unconsciously took a half-step backward until he bumped into Jack. “By going behind my back to my therapist?”

“Mac, you aren’t—”

Dr. Lightfeld interrupted. “No confidentiality was breached, Agent MacGyver. Nor yours, Agent Dalton. Your friends merely wanted a generalized discussion of…coping strategies.”

Mac’s fists clenched. “Because you think I’m not _coping_?”

“Kid,” Jack murmured in his ear. “Maybe we need to take a break.”

“No, Jack. I want to know why they think they have the right to—”

“The _right_? Man, we’ve been friends our whole lives, and you want to talk about—”

“We just really care about you, Mac,” Riley interjected softly.

“Then why don’t you mind your own business? Don’t you think I’m _trying_ to get over it? Don’t you think I _want_ to—to forget about it, and just go back to normal, and—”

“Blondie.” Matty’s stern tone cut off Mac’s rising voice. “Jack’s right. Take a break.”

Mac glared but didn’t dare argue.

“C’mon, kiddo.” Jack tugged at him gently. “Let’s hit the gym for a while, all right?”

Mac turned his glare on Jack, a safer target than Matty. “No. I don’t want to stay here another minute.” He took a step toward the front doors, waiting for Jack to move in front of him, and then turned back to the four still huddled together. “Maybe I don’t _ever_ want to come back here if this is what my _friends_ do.”

Matty’s scowl deepened, and Bozer’s face fell.

“Mac…” Riley started, sounding so hurt that Jack whipped around, almost taking a step in her direction before looking at Mac again.

At the conflict on Jack’s face, Matty took pity. “Go on, Jack,” she ordered softly. Jack met her eyes and tipped his head slightly toward Riley, and Matty nodded in response.

Jack draped an arm around Mac’s shoulders, twisting back as they moved toward the entrance. He caught Riley’s eyes and mouthed, _Sorry_. She smiled sadly.

Mac slammed the car door hard. That little outburst inside had probably not helped his case with Matty, but it wasn’t like she was going to let him return to work any time soon anyway. And how dare his so-called friends sneak around trying to find ways to _fix_ him, as if he were some broken puppet they could put back together? They didn’t even think he could do recovery right.

He could feel Jack watching him but refused to acknowledge the man, crossing his arms and staring straight ahead.

Jack sighed. Attempting a lecture now would just spark another fight. He needed to get Mac to burn off some energy, and if he wasn’t willing to go to the Phoenix gym, they’d have to find another outlet.

Twenty minutes into their drive, Mac finally said, “Did you know?”

Jack didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “No. I didn’t know they were gonna talk to the doc. But, son, can’t say I’m surprised. Are you?”

“They _shouldn’t_—”

“Mac.” Jack was grateful to reach their destination so he could park and turn to his partner. “You know I love you. More than anything, okay? But you an’ me…maybe we’re not really the experts on what’s healthy here.”

Mac refused to look up. “You said you didn’t care—”

“And I don’t. Doc Lightfeld can call us covalent—”

“Codependent.”

“—or whatever all she wants. That doesn’t change the fact that I am gonna be there for you every single second, for as long as you’ll let me.” Jack scratched his neck. “But see, that’s why I’m maybe not the best person to be plannin’ any kind of recovery process.”

“I hate words like that,” Mac mumbled, more to himself than to Jack, but the werewolf’s sensitive ears picked it up anyway.

“Okay then, enough talkin’ for now, all right? We got work to do anyway.”

Mac perked up a little. “Work?”

“I promised I’d teach you all about being a wolf, right? So today we’ll practice with your catching reflexes.”

“Huh?”

Without warning, Jack threw his keys directly at the kid’s face, hard enough that three months ago, Mac wouldn’t have had time to duck or deflect. Faster than a human eye could follow, Mac snagged them out of the air.

“That.”

“Oh.” Mac’s eyes were wide. “I didn’t realize I could do that.”

A slow grin tugged at the corners of Jack’s lips. “Yep. You’re gonna have faster reflexes than before, faster than any human. And you already got better hand-eye coordination than most, so I bet you’ll be one of the best wolves out there.” He didn’t bother trying to disguise the pride in his voice.

Mac blushed but got out of the car, following Jack to a clearing far enough away from any trails that they were unlikely to be disturbed. Jack had apparently been thinking about this for a while because before they left the car, he reached into the trunk and produced a frisbee, a tennis ball, a softball, and what appeared to be a bag of marbles.

“We’ll pick up other stuff on the way,” Jack announced. “Improvisin’s kinda your specialty, after all.” He winked, and Mac couldn’t keep from grinning back.

They spent the next few hours playing with increasingly ridiculous scenarios that involved throwing things at each other full strength. (“What if some mad scientist trains squirrels to throw grenades? Gotta be ready for a projectile from any angle.” “So…you want me to catch grenades with my bare hands?”) At first, Jack had lightly tossed the frisbee in Mac’s general direction, letting him figure out how to trust his instincts to know where the object would be. As Jack expected, Mac was so adept at this that they quickly moved on to the tennis ball, the softball, a stick, a medium-sized rock, and finally the marbles, which were more difficult because of their small size.

At that point, their competitive sides emerged, and they were pitching marbles at each other at a ferocious pace, catching more than they missed but panting as they zigzagged across the field to collect more items to throw.

Mac was ahead with only six misses to Jack’s seven—in fairness, Jack was trying to be careful not to accidentally pelt the kid, while Mac believed all shots were open—when Jack finally called it quits.

“Giving up, old man?” Mac teased, eyes sparkling, but he was already collecting their toys and putting them back into the bag.

Jack had missed hearing the kid laugh. “Yeah, yeah, you win,” he agreed good-naturedly. “Now we gotta get home before dark.”

Mac sobered instantly. “Full moon tonight.”

“Yep.”

Mac trotted after Jack toward the car. “It doesn’t bother you.” It was half-question, half-statement.

Jack shrugged. “Learned to live with it. You will too, I promise. Just not all in one night, okay?”

Mac had no objection and slumped in the passenger seat as they chose a drive-through and took the food to Jack’s apartment. Mac had long kept a few changes of clothes there, so he didn’t need to go back home, and he was glad not to see Bozer.

While Mac showered and changed, Jack texted Riley.

_Sorry about earlier. You okay?_

The response was immediate.

_No. Nobody’s okay, Jack._

Jack bit his lip, trying to think of something that would make her feel better. Mac, as always, was his priority, but Riley was part of his pack too.

Before he could think of anything, he received another message.

_We can’t help if he doesn’t let us._

_I know, sweetheart. I’ll talk to him. Tell him y’all want to help._

_But who’s helping YOU?_

“Bathroom’s free,” Mac announced, shaking wet hair out of his eyes as he padded into the room.

“Hey, pup, you know how to use a towel?” Jack sniped automatically, shoving his phone away quickly, as though Mac could read his messages from across the room. “You’re gettin’ everything wet.”

Mac ignored the complaint. “If you’re going to shower, hurry up. I’m hungry.”

Jack headed for the bathroom and then hesitated. Maybe he _hadn’t_ been doing enough to help Mac regain his independence. “You can start without me if you want,” he said carefully, not looking at Mac.

There was a strained silence. “That’s—okay. It’ll reheat.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. Be right out.”

True to his word, Jack was finished in a few minutes, and Mac stood up, ready to return to the kitchen for some mu shu pork.

“Hey, c’mere for a sec.” Jack reached out and pulled the kid into a hug.

“What’s that for?” Mac asked, but he didn’t try to move away. He liked the smell of Jack’s soap, and he liked even more that his nose was now powerful enough to pick up Jack’s natural scent underneath any cleansers or colognes he used.

“Just…makin’ sure you cleaned behind your ears.” Jack flicked the kid’s ear lightly with his fingertip, and Mac squeaked in protest. “Hey, I’m proud of you, son, you know that? You did good this afternoon.”

As usual when he received praise, Mac blushed, but he was soaking up the words. His own father had never complimented anything he did; Mac had never been good enough. But Jack valued him, saw the best in him.

He didn’t deserve to have Jack in his life.

“Ready to eat?”

Mac nodded, but Jack hadn’t released him, so he didn’t let go either.

“Kiddo? Maybe you wanna let Bozer know where you are, okay? So he isn’t worryin’ that you’re not home.”

Mac frowned and took a step away. “I don’t need to report my every movement.”

“Kid...”

“If it’s so important, why don’t you tell him? Why am I the only one who has to—”

“_Mac_. Please just send him a text. Now. Then we can eat.” The gentle cadence of Jack’s voice hadn’t changed, but Mac could hear the steel that had entered his tone.

He sent a quick _Staying at Jack’s tonight_. “Happy now?”

Jack forced himself not to rise to the bait. “Yup. Let’s eat.”

By the time they had finished sharing the Chinese takeout, Mac was more relaxed, agreeing eagerly to a movie marathon. Jack dug the ice cream out of his freezer, reminded Mac that he wasn’t getting any, and caved immediately when Mac turned on his puppy-dog eyes.

“That just ain’t fair,” Jack grumbled as he passed the lion’s share of the ice cream over to the kid, the two collapsing on the couch in front of the television.

Mac shook Jack out of a doze as the second movie was ending. “You sleep like that and you’ll hurt your back.”

Jack groaned. “Fine. Then you gotta carry me to bed.” He flopped sideways onto the kid, who tried to shove him off.

“_You’re_ the one who has four legs.”

“I see how it is. Make a better teddy bear that way, huh?”

Before Mac could retort, Jack had shifted.

“I don’t need a teddy bear,” Mac said anyway, glaring at the wolf now sitting on the floor at his feet.

Jack yipped and paced toward the bedroom, pausing to make sure Mac was following.

Mac was tired enough that he didn’t put up much resistance when the wolf groomed him briefly before nosing under the blankets. The two curled up together, falling asleep at almost the same moment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: semi-graphic self-harm (both intentional and unintentional), mild panic attacks

Jack awoke with a feeling of dread coiled in his gut. Mac had been restive all night, which meant neither of them had gotten much sleep, which meant the conversation they needed to have would be even more difficult than anticipated.

Without thinking, Jack shifted back to human form, rolling off Mac and scooping him up so the kid was nestled against Jack’s chest. Mac hummed in his sleep and nuzzled closer to the warm, breathing pillow, and Jack tightened his arms around him.

He had promised to protect this kid, to take care of him, and he hadn’t prevented Murdoc—

Jack didn’t deserve the faith Mac still had in him. But he would try every single day to be worthy of it.

“Jack?”

It wasn’t the first time Mac had spoken. Jack shook himself.

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t realize you were awake.” He began running his fingers through the kid’s hair. “How’d you sleep?”

Mac shrugged. Lying wouldn’t do any good, but he also didn’t want to say aloud what Jack already knew.

“Yeah, okay,” Jack said softly. “Hey, pup, you know we have to have a talk, right?”

Mac stiffened. “If you want to yell at me about yesterday—”

“Hey, no. No, I’m not mad, not at all. I’m always on your side, remember?”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes you don’t think about your own safety and—” Jack growled. “Sorry. Never mind. Gettin’ off track. You wanna take a shower, have breakfast first?”

“Just get it over with,” Mac hissed.

Jack sighed and sat up, bringing Mac with him. “Kiddo, I just think maybe you were a little—hard on the team yesterday.”

“They had no right to talk about me—”

“I’m not finished,” Jack reprimanded. Mac’s head was still tucked into Jack’s shoulder, but Jack could tell the kid was scowling. “Whether or not what they did was right, they did it for a good reason. ‘Cause they care about you. And you really hurt Riley’s feelings.”

Mac sat up. “Oh, _that’s_ what this is really about,” he snarled.

“Mac—”

“No, now it’s my turn. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“What?”

“You _always_ want to protect Riley and—and you act like her dad. Well, guess what? You’re not her dad. You’re not anybody’s dad.”

Jack’s jaw dropped.

Mac wanted to press the advantage, but his throat was too tight for him to speak. Instead, he hopped off the bed, grabbed some clothes, and sealed himself in the en suite bathroom. The shower was the only safe place to cry; if he were quiet enough, Jack couldn’t hear him over the spray of water.

Jack paced the room restlessly. He’d clearly handled that badly, but he wasn’t sure how he could have done better. And he could tell himself all he wanted that Mac didn’t really mean what he’d said, that he was just angry and trying to get Jack to back off, but his comments still hurt. A lot.

After twenty minutes, the shower was still running, and Jack was pressed against the bathroom door, vibrating with tension. He couldn’t go in, not with Mac in his current mood. He didn’t even dare knock. Mac was sure to take his overprotectiveness the wrong way.

On the other hand, Jack had removed the sharp objects from the bathroom at Mac’s place, but he’d forgotten to do the same here. Which meant his razor hung neatly above the sink, just waiting there…

Jack opened the door.

“Mac?” he called through the clouds of steam, waving a hand in the air.

Silence.

“Mac?” Jack took a step toward the shower.

“Get out, Jack.” The words were defiant, but the voice was weary. “You’re supposed to leave me alone when I shower.”

“Sorry, kid. Just got worried. You know you’ve been in there for twenty-five minutes?”

There was a long pause and then a small voice. “Oh.”

“Surprised there’s any hot water left.” Jack aimed for a lighter tone. “You’re okay in there, right?”

Mac let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not hurting myself. Just stop—” He choked on whatever he’d been about to say.

“Stop what?” Jack spoke more harshly than he’d intended. “Stop worrying about you? Stop caring about you? ‘Cause _that_ sure ain’t gonna happen, son.” He cringed at the last word, waiting for Mac to kick him out.

The water shut off.

“Jack…”

Jack wanted to weep at the defeated attitude.

“I’m sorry for what I said, okay? Will you leave so I can get dressed?”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I can do that much by myself,” Mac snapped but without heat. “Then you can yell at me some more and I won’t say anything, all right? Just please go.”

Jack grabbed the razor from its holder. “Yeah, all right, kid. If that’s what you want. I’m goin’.” He backed quietly out of the bathroom and closed the door.

Mac emerged a few minutes later, head hanging, damp blond hair in his eyes.

“Buddy. Please.” Jack held out his arms, and Mac glanced up briefly, nodding his consent. Jack wrapped him up in a hug immediately.

“I’m sorry, kid. I coulda handled that better. Didn’t mean to—”

“Wasn’t your fault, Jack.”

“Kinda feels like my fault.”

“No, you were right. I was…rude yesterday. To the team. They were trying to be nice. Even if their methods were crap.”

Jack hummed in agreement.

“I’ll apologize, okay?” Mac burrowed into the crook of Jack’s neck.

“That’s a good idea, son.”

Drat. He’d done it again. Mac was frowning.

“Sorry, kid. I’m not tryna replace your—”

“Don’t.” Mac tightened his arms around Jack’s torso. “Sorry about what I said. You’re—you can…call me whatever you want.”

Jack smiled slightly into the blond hair on his shoulder, squeezing his kid more firmly. He breathed in Mac’s scent, feeling some of his tension drain away. “Sounds good, sweetie-pie.”

Mac made a gagging sound.

“C’mon, cuddlebunny. I’ll make breakfast.”

“I take it back,” Mac groaned, stumbling after Jack toward the kitchen. “I forgot how annoying you are.”

“Now, that ain’t very nice, precious.”

“No. Your nickname rights are revoked.”

Jack grinned mischievously. “Too late, cherub.”

Mac snatched the spatula off the counter and pointed it at Jack. “Drop it now, or I’m cooking breakfast.”

“You can’t cook.”

It was Mac’s turn to grin. “But you’ll have to eat it anyway. Wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings, would you?”

Jack threw in the towel, both figuratively and literally, tossing a hand towel onto the counter. “Fine. I give up. Man, you have no mercy, do you?”

Mac allowed Jack to retrieve the spatula. “I’ll get the coffee started.” He tried not to sound overly smug, but Jack just rolled his eyes fondly.

As Jack prepared pancakes and sausage, Mac stabbed at his phone, hesitating over wording his messages before sending. Then he powered his phone off completely, clearly not yet ready to deal with whatever responses he would receive. Jack had chided him the first time he’d done that, insisting that he needed to be able to get in touch with the kid at all times. Mac had argued that they were never more than about ten feet from each other, and Jack had conceded the point.

Their after-breakfast run was odd. Instead of jogging next to Jack or a step behind him, Mac put on bursts of speed that put him in front of the older man, where he would stay for no more than a few seconds before slowing and letting Jack catch up. He’d follow Jack for a while and then repeat the entire process.

Jack would have thought Mac was just trying to push himself physically except for the furrows lining the kid’s face. His thoughts were spiraling. Jack needed to get him home before he spun out completely.

“Mac, let’s head back,” he said when they were stopped at a crosswalk.

“What? Why? It hasn’t even been two miles.”

“Yeah, well, the old man is tired. Have some pity.”

Mac’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not even breathing hard. You’re not tired.”

“Fine, I didn’t wanna bring this up, but that sausage wasn’t maybe as fresh as it shoulda been, and we don’t really want its encore performance here in the street, right?”

Three months ago, this would have been enough to make Mac’s nose wrinkle, and he would have waved off any further explanations. Of course, three months ago, Mac could have just continued the run on his own instead of returning to the apartment with Jack. And three months ago, they hadn’t been spending every second of every day together, so Mac was now even more attuned to his partner’s tells than he had been before.

“Jack.” Frustration laced the kid’s voice. “That isn’t true. Why do you always think you can’t just _tell_ me what’s going on? You think—”

This was exactly what Jack had been hoping to avoid.

“Hey, you’re right, I’m sorry. Truth is, I just want us to get home. Okay?”

“Why? And if you try to bull—”

“Kid, we can talk about it when we get there. All right? Let’s go.”

Mac crossed his arms. “You’re the one who’s always saying we need to get more fresh air.”

Jack’s patience was wearing thin. “Man, what is _with_ you today? You gotta argue with everything I say?”

“Well, when everything you say is _dumb_—”

“Mac. We’re going. End of discussion.”

“No. You don’t get to just say that. You need a reason—”

“Kid, so help me, if I have to drag your ass back, I will.”

Mac was unimpressed. “Because everybody thinks they know what’s best for me, is that it? Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s only my life. But nobody—”

“Mac. Please, I am begging you. Let’s not do this out here.”

“Not do _what_, Jack? Have a real conversation?”

Jack was at a loss. Normally, Mac would be the first to shy away from emotional scenes in public, but he wasn’t accepting any of Jack’s offers to get somewhere more private.

Maybe Mac was just feeling contradictory. “Fine. Let’s have it out right here,” Jack dared.

“Fine by me. You interrupting our run just to throw your weight around? It get you off to boss me around?”

Okay, that had backfired spectacularly. Jack was incredibly grateful this was a quiet street, but a woman with a German shepherd was staring at them curiously. Jack tried to send her a reassuring smile, but judging by the way she gripped the leash more tightly and began walking faster, he hadn’t succeeded.

Jack deliberately lowered his voice. “I know you don’t mean that, kid. You want the truth about why I wanna go home? It’s ‘cause somethin’s off with you, and I thought you’d rather avoid a meltdown in public.”

Mac’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, but he didn’t give in. “You think you know me better than I do? You think you know how much I can handle?” He cleared his throat wetly. “You _don’t_. You don’t know, and Matty doesn’t know, and Bozer doesn’t know, and Riley—”

“Son, please. C’mon.” Jack reached out a gentle hand, cupping the back of the kid’s neck. “It’s all right. Come on.”

“No!” The suddenness of the response shocked Jack enough that he didn’t react when Mac shoved his arm away, much harder than necessary.

“Okay, that’s it,” Jack growled under his breath. At least the dog-walker was out of sight now and the street was empty. He grabbed Mac’s ear, twisting roughly, and began dragging him back the way they’d come.

“Wh—_ow_!”

Jack spun around to face the kid again, dropping his hand. “Oh, no. No, kid, I’m sorry. No, no, no, I’m so sorry, Mac.”

The kid stood stock-still, head bowed, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. Jack wanted to kick himself. The first time he’d touched the kid without permission, and it had been to hurt him? He didn’t deserve to have Mac as part of his pack.

“Please, kiddo, I’m so, so sorry. Please look at me.”

Mac had his eyes closed.

“No? Okay, that’s fine. That’s fine. Whatever you need. Um, okay, can—can I hug you?”

Mac shook his head slightly.

“I deserve that. But please, kid, just for a second? Really quick, I promise. Please?”

After a long pause, Mac nodded, unmoving as Jack embraced him tenderly. Jack gave himself to the count of three and then let go. Mac didn’t react to that either.

“Please, can we go home, buddy? You don’t have to talk to me or look at me or even be in the same room with me if you don’t want, okay? Let’s just get inside.”

After another minute, Mac nodded again and fell into line behind Jack, staying one step behind. Jack felt another stab to his heart as he realized how much Mac reminded him of the German shepherd they’d seen, heeling perfectly upon command.

At the apartment, Jack fetched some water and returned to the living room to see Mac huddled in a ball in an armchair. Jack felt a spark of hope. If Mac had wanted to be alone, he would have gone into one of the bedrooms and closed the door.

Jack set the water on the coffee table and flopped down on the couch. Mac clearly wasn’t willing to let Jack too near him, but at this point, even being in the same room was a win. He switched on the TV to help alleviate the tense silence.

Patience was an odd thing, Jack reflected as he tried to pretend he wasn’t watching Mac, who hadn’t yet looked up. On the job, waiting for a target, Jack could remain alert and motionless for hours. He could outlast any of his younger teammates on a stakeout. He had once waited in line for a concert for nineteen hours and had never felt even a hint of impatience.

But one glance at his hurting kid, and he just wanted to fix it _now_.

Unable to continue doing nothing, Jack jumped up, ran to his bedroom, and returned in a record eight seconds, which was about the maximum length of time he figured he could stand to be away from Mac right now. He approached cautiously and placed his pillow in the space between the armrest and Mac’s socked feet.

When Jack resumed his seat on the couch, Mac uncurled enough to grab the pillow, hiding his face in its softness.

The pillow smelled like Jack, and it was both squishy and firm, and Mac hugged it to his chest, appreciating the soft solidity, the barrier between him and…everything.

He was a mess. Everybody else was right. He was totally broken, and they should just stop trying to fix him. Mac had repaired, to date, eighty-seven items that he had specifically been told were unsalvageable. So if even Mac couldn’t fix this, no one could.

He squeezed the pillow hard enough that he began to fear its seams would rip. He wished it were Jack next to him instead of just Jack’s pillow. The pillow smelled good, but the scent was faint. The pillow wasn’t warm like Jack, didn’t have a steadying heartbeat to anchor him. And the pillow definitely couldn’t hold him.

But he’d pushed Jack away, and Jack wouldn’t want him now. He was probably sick of having a kid attached to his side anyway. Sure, Jack had said he would always stay, but that was before Mac had demonstrated that he was beyond help, that he wasn’t getting better.

He whined into the pillow, hoping it would muffle the sound until Jack gave up and left and he could break down completely.

“Mac?”

No such luck.

“Hey, kiddo, could I…” Jack hesitated. He had no right to ask for permission to touch the kid, not now. But he couldn’t help himself. He moved to sit on the edge of the coffee table and tapped Mac’s right ankle with one finger. “Can I?”

Slowly, watching for any sign of discomfort, Jack stretched Mac’s legs out from the chair and onto his lap. Equally slowly, he began delicately massaging the lean calves and the shins that had so recently healed after being snapped in two. He had done this while Mac was still in medical, and the kid had never objected. He didn’t respond now.

Mac kept his face hidden in the pillow, afraid Jack would stop if he looked up. Truthfully, the gentle fingers didn’t help at all—at least not physically—but Mac had never told Jack that. If Jack thought it helped, he might keep doing it.

“Doin’ okay, buddy?”

Mac didn’t respond. Jack’s hands fluttered uncertainly, so Mac spared a nod to make him continue.

“Wanna move over to the couch? Might be more comfortable.”

For a second, Jack thought he’d pushed too hard—yet again—and then Mac unwound himself from the pillow and shuffled over to the couch, waiting for Jack to sit before settling next to him. Jack held up an arm, and Mac ducked under it, burying himself in Jack’s chest.

Jack gusted a relieved sigh, his nose in the kid’s hair, both arms locked around him. He owed the kid about a million apologies, but at least Mac wasn’t forcing him away. He brushed his lips along the tip of the kid’s ear, a silent plea for forgiveness. For several minutes, the only sound was the droning of some talk show on TV.

The fourth time Jack kissed the same ear, Mac finally spoke up.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Jack jerked back. He’d kind of thought the kid might be asleep. “What?”

“It doesn’t hurt. You can stop. I mean, if you want to. You don’t have to.”

He didn’t have to stop because Mac _wanted_ him to continue or because Mac didn’t want to tell Jack no? Jack hated this guessing game of trying to figure out what people really meant. He always said exactly what he was thinking, but he knew that Mac, outside of work, had learned to hedge his bets, to believe that what he was really thinking might not be acceptable and so he had to filter himself.

Jack gave up trying to outthink the genius. “I am really, truly sorry about that, Mac. Wish I could do somethin’ to make it up to you.”

Mac shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“I ‘preciate you sayin’ that, but it’s not okay, kid. It is never okay to hurt you in any way.”

Mac sounded annoyed now. “Didn’t hurt a lot. It’s no big deal, Jack.”

Jack wanted to argue, to tell Mac not to make excuses for him, but he didn’t want to irritate the kid further.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Well, next time I get on your nerves, you get a free shot, all right? Anywhere you want.”

Mac shook his head in disbelief, wriggling a little closer. “I’m not going to hit you, Jack. And there can’t really be a ‘next time’ when you get on my nerves _all_ the time.”

Jack grinned, delighted with the tiny bit of teasing. “That so? You want me to leave, then?”

“No!” Mac clutched Jack’s shirt and then almost immediately released it. “I-I mean, it’s your place. I—I can—if you want—”

Jack cursed his big stupid mouth. “I don’t want you goin’ anywhere, kiddo. If you’re willin’ to put up with me, I want you right here. Always. Okay?”

Mac relaxed in Jack’s embrace and nodded.

“Hey, you tired? Don’t know about you, but I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Jack yawned widely to illustrate his point. “Was thinkin’ a nap sounded pretty good.”

Mac considered for a moment and then mirrored the yawn. “Yeah. I guess so.”

As they moved into Jack’s bedroom, Jack was thankful Mac didn’t mention taking a shower; he didn’t want the kid out of his sight for even a second. They could clean up later.

“Jack?”

Jack looked down and could just barely make out the blond head on his chest in the darkness of the room. “Mm-hm?”

“I just…wanted to prove I could—could—you know. Without you. Without help, I mean.”

Jack bit his lip and thought about how to respond. “Nothin’ wrong with needin’ help,” he said finally.

Mac shrugged. “It’s been a long time.”

“Mac. You’ve been home for less than_ three weeks_. That is no time at all. I know you compartmentalize like nobody’s business, but you can’t just flip a switch on this, son. I sure can’t.”

There was a tiny sniffle. “Wish I could. I—I couldn’t see you, or smell you, or hear you, and I _hated_ it—”

“Hey, I get it,” Jack soothed. That explained a lot. They had been running into the wind, which meant both Jack’s scent and the sound of his footsteps would have been swept behind Mac. No wonder the kid kept stopping. “It was a good experiment. But—what are those things in experiments? Violas?”

“You mean _variables_?”

“Yeah, them. Didn’t you tell me you’re only s’posed to change one at a time?”

Mac was silent for a while. “You mean we should try…like trial separations?”

“Kinda makes us sound like an old married couple, but sure. Just not cold turkey, you get me?”

The idea had taken root, and Mac was talking faster. “Like, we’ll start by being able to _see_ each other, but not hear or smell, right? No, that’d be hard to do. It’d be easier to start with not being able to see. Then we could work up to two senses. We’d need to chart—”

“Okay, whoa. Sounds like great ideas, kid, but I thought it was time for my beauty rest. Can you tell me the rest later?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. You can sleep if you want to.”

“You gonna sleep too?”

“Um, maybe.”

“Or you just gonna keep that big ol’ brain runnin’ at top speed ‘stead of shuttin’ it off?”

“Brains don’t ‘shut off’ when you sleep, Jack.”

“Speak for yourself, genius.”

Mac tilted his head to give Jack the full benefit of his exasperated look.

Jack smiled and tapped one finger on the tip of the kid’s nose. “Nighty-night, pup.”

~~~

When Jack woke up, he panicked to find Mac wasn’t in his arms.

“Settle down, big guy. I’m right here.”

Jack lifted his head. Mac was sitting up, leaning back against the headboard, with Jack’s head pillowed on one thigh, an arm slung over the kid’s long legs.

“Wow, I was really out, huh?”

“Snoring like a jackhammer,” Mac confirmed.

Jack sat up. “So you sleep at all?”

Mac shrugged and changed the subject, holding up his phone. “Bozer says he’ll make dinner tonight.”

“That’s…good.”

“I told him I wanted you there.” Mac wasn’t looking up.

Jack hesitated. “Was he—is that okay?”

Mac nodded silently.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s goin’ on in your head?” Jack shifted to drop an arm across Mac’s shoulders.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

Jack hummed. “You hear from Matty or Riley?”

Mac passed his phone over. Without a word, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the reading glasses perched there, offering them to Jack.

Jack waved them away. “I can guess. They told you they love you and care about you and they’ll kick your ass if you ever talk to them that way again.”

Mac quirked a smile. “Close enough.”

“Okay, good. Then you don’t need a lecture from me.”

“You mean _another_…?” Mac mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh. Hey, how ‘bout we go down to that little sandwich place you like for lunch?”

Mac knew Jack was trying to make it up to him for cutting their morning run short, even though Mac admitted that he had not been in a good headspace and probably would have ended up blowing a fuse at some point. He didn’t bother sharing this with Jack.

“Yeah, that’d be good. I’m going to shower before we go, okay?”

Jack extended a hand. “Go for it. I’m gonna be right here, scrolling through all your messages.”

Mac snatched his phone from Jack’s open palm. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, you’re the worst too. Now go shower already. Wolf-Jack thinks you always smell interesting, but human-Jack ain’t enjoyin’ it so much.”

Mac rolled his eyes as he stood. “Can human-you smell yourself?”

“You tryna say somethin’?”

Mac poked in a drawer. “Huh. I used up all the clothes I had here.”

“Eh. Just grab some of mine.”

Mac shrugged and picked up a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but Jack saw him smiling as he disappeared into the bathroom.

After both had showered, they walked the two blocks to the deli. Mac no longer teased Jack about getting five different types of meat on his sandwich; in fact, he’d started ordering the same. They ate companionably, Mac being ostentatiously polite to the employees who served them as if to prove to Jack that he was all right. Jack didn’t comment.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in Jack’s apartment, Mac prowling around and finding things to “fix.” Jack let him do it, happy the kid was willing to move around on his own, even if it was only the length of a room. When Jack went to the kitchen for a drink, Mac silently dropped what he was doing and followed, but both pretended it was just because he was thirsty as well. When Mac wanted to shower before they met Bozer for dinner, he suggested Jack gather a few more clothes as they’d discussed, and Jack quickly obliged so he’d be right outside the master bath.

Jack wondered how long they could keep making excuses to keep each other close. No wonder Dr. Lightfeld was increasingly frustrated. Jack couldn’t really blame her for refusing to sign off so they could return to the field.

Mac grew quieter as the afternoon wore down. He was jumping at every sound now, and Jack knew the young werewolf’s senses were starting to feel overpowering again, likely due to exhaustion and stress.

“It’s just you and me and Boze tonight, right?”

Mac cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“Okay. It’ll be nice, right?” Jack kept his voice gentle.

“Yeah,” Mac agreed unconvincingly.

“Kiddo. There’s nothin’ to worry about. Just you wait—Boze’ll have the best meal you’ve eaten in ages ready for ya.”

“I know.” Mac turned away, curling into himself.

“You thinkin’ you didn’t leave things so good with him yesterday?”

Mac didn’t respond, but he allowed Jack to slip an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, you two are like…Teflon and superglue. No matter what happens, you’ll find a way to stick together.”

Mac cracked a smile. “Superglue doesn’t stick to Teflon.”

“All right, then, y’all are better than Teflon. How’s that?”

The kid shook his head, but he was more relaxed now. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously good-looking? So true, kid. Now you ready to go or what?”

Bozer greeted them boisterously, an obvious attempt at normalcy that would have been annoying from anyone else but from Bozer was oddly endearing. He tasked Jack with setting the table and drafted Mac as taste-tester, which was—according to Bozer—the only use Mac had in the kitchen.

Jack remembered why he was so fond of this human he’d adopted into his pack. Bozer joked with Mac just the right amount, told entertaining stories, and teased his best friend by hinting at childhood stories that he could share. Jack was delighted when Mac retaliated with embarrassing incidents from Bozer’s past that didn’t appear to embarrass Bozer in the least, the kid grinning and relaxed as he hadn’t been for ages.

Plus, Bozer’s pastrami was to die for.

Jack did his part to keep their dinner light and festive, and he and Bozer fell into easy banter as they had so often before Boze had known anything about werewolves. It was nice. Normal. Fun.

Things were going so well that Jack decided to try giving the two younger men some space.

“Hey, kiddo, I’m gonna finish eating out on the deck, all right?” he murmured, an arm around Mac.

Mac’s eyes went wide. “Um, okay. I mean, it’s a full moon, but…yeah. I need get used to that sometime, right?”

“No, bud, I meant—you can stay here. With Boze. Okay?”

For a second, panic flashed in the wide blue eyes, but then Mac clenched his jaw and nodded.

Jack jovially announced his intention to “howl at the moon,” accepting the lighthearted ribbing from Bozer, and he took his plate out to the deck, closing the sliding glass door behind him.

Almost immediately, Jack felt a tightness in his chest. He could still see the kid, so he tried to focus on that, but he couldn’t smell him anymore, beyond the faint scent that lingered on Mac’s favorite patio chair. Jack dropped into it, still staring inside.

Mac wasn’t sure he could breathe. He couldn’t hear Jack’s heartbeat anymore, the one thing that kept him steady. He could see Jack, sort of, but the deck lights weren’t on, so mostly he only saw the glare of the kitchen in the glass.

“Hey, Mac.”

Mac realized Bozer had been talking for the last few minutes.

“You okay, dude?”

“Um.” Mac cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Bozer eyed him suspiciously but let it go. “I was saying that Riley’s really warming up to me.” He grinned. “She’ll be eating out of my hand in no time.”

Mac smiled, tension easing a little, and tried to lose himself in casual chatter. He managed to keep most of his focus on Bozer, but he glanced out at the deck every few minutes, checking that the Jack-shaped shadow hadn’t moved, and when he finished eating, he lifted the collar of the borrowed t-shirt to inhale Jack’s scent. It wasn’t a shirt Jack had worn recently, but he draped his arms around the kid so much that the fabric had picked up a bit of werewolf scent.

Bozer was in the middle of a long-winded tale about a video he’d seen that had sparked his creativity, gesturing more dramatically than usual in an effort to hold Mac’s attention. He understood what Jack was trying to do, and based on what Dr. Lightfeld had suggested yesterday—the word “weaning” came to mind—Bozer was all for this attempt to crowbar Jack from Mac’s side.

After half an hour, Mac was practically chewing on his shirt, sparing Bozer only occasional glances, and Bozer had had enough.

“Hey, you wanna see it? I’ll grab my laptop and pull up the footage for you. M-maybe Jack would wanna see too.”

At the mention of Jack’s name, Mac spun around. “What?”

“I’m going to grab my laptop,” Bozer repeated patiently. “How about you tell Jack he won’t wanna miss this?”

Mac took a step toward the glass door and wavered. “I—I can…he’s probably enjoying it out there. Wait until you get back.”

Bozer’s eyebrows drew together. “Uh, whatever you say, man. I’ll be right back.”

Mac closed his eyes as Bozer left the room, concentrating on breathing, four counts in, four counts out. He could do this. It wasn’t as if he were in any danger. Bozer was only a room away; Jack was right outside on the deck, not even twenty feet distant. Everything was fine.

But everything had been fine the night Murdoc had drawn him outside, too. There had been a full moon that night, and Mac had been standing in the kitchen just like this when he felt that undeniable pull from his alpha…

The alpha who had brutally tortured him for his own pleasure. The alpha who had controlled him in a way he never knew was possible. The alpha who had stripped him of every ounce of dignity and self-worth. The alpha who had known everything about him.

The alpha who was still in his head, even if he couldn’t physically control Mac anymore.

“Mac!”

Hands were touching him, clutching his shoulders, and Mac just moaned, unable to muster the strength to push them away, his muscles locked in place.

“Kiddo! C’mon, snap out of it, you’re okay, everything’s okay, come back to me, buddy…”

Mac opened his eyes. “Jack?”

The litany of pleas stopped, and Jack sagged in relief. “Yeah. There you are.”

“What—” Mac felt a sharp pain in his arms and looked down. His fingers looked normal, but it was immediately apparent that his claws had come out, bloody indentations on both forearms evidence of his tight grip around himself.

“Hey.” At Jack’s soft voice, Mac lifted his head. “You’re all right now. It’s okay.”

Mac shook his head, feeling strangely dizzy.

“All right, all right, all right! I’ve got—” Bozer waltzed in, holding his laptop aloft, and stopped dead in his tracks. “What happened?”

Mac blinked sluggishly, but he didn’t have time to formulate a response.

“What _happened_ is you left him,” Jack snarled, fangs glinting and eyes flashing amber. “What the _hell_ were you thinking?”

“I—”

“Or is thinking not something you can do?” Jack was only preventing himself from turning into full wolf so that he could keep his hands on Mac’s shoulders. He felt the kid shaking, and it fueled his anger. “You _left_ him, you piece of—”

“Jack.” Still trembling, Mac managed to grab Jack’s sleeve. “Not his fault.”

“The hell it isn’t, kiddo. He—”

“I told him to go.”

The wolf features disappeared, but Jack’s eyes were still glowing with anger. “You did _what_?” He looked at Bozer for confirmation, and Bozer gave him a tight-lipped nod.

“Thought…” Mac crumpled. “Sorry,” he sobbed, throwing himself into Jack’s arms.

Jack barely caught him but wasted no time in enveloping his kid. “No, shh, I’m sorry. It’s all right.”

Bozer shuffled awkwardly, wanting to comfort his best friend but figuring what Mac really needed right now was Jack.

As usual.

“I’ll clean up,” he announced shortly, speaking to the empty space next to the fridge so he didn’t have to look at Jack. “Just…” He waved a hand, the _take care of him_ going unspoken.

Jack nodded even though Bozer wasn’t looking. “Sorry I blamed you,” he said, still sounding more angry than contrite, not waiting for a response before shepherding Mac down the hall toward his bedroom.

When they were alone, Jack sat on the bed, settling the kid next to him and gentling his voice even further. “Hey, you did good, son. You did really good. Tried to tackle too much right outta the gate, of course, but I shoulda seen that coming.”

Mac didn’t answer, but his tears were slowing, his breathing not such frantic gasps.

“We’ll get there, bud. We will. Man, if that was as hard for you as it was for me…but we did it, right? Just gotta be patient. The Romans didn’t build roads in a day, you know.”

Mac didn’t laugh, but Jack felt a small smile twitch against his neck.

“You doin’ okay, kiddo?”

Mac wanted to pull away so he could look at Jack, but he couldn’t make himself move. He burrowed further into Jack’s shoulder and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“No, no, ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for, buddy. I’m the one who should be sorry. Shoulda been watching better and come in soon as Boze left. Or…” Jack sighed, closing his eyes in self-recrimination. “Shoulda paid better attention to your experimental violins. You said sense of smell should be the last to go, right? That’s on me, kid. I won’t go off-book again, promise.” Jack nuzzled the fluffy blond hair on his shoulder. “That’s kinda your thing anyway.”

Unable to collect any words of reassurance, Mac settled for unclenching one hand from Jack’s shirt to pat the man on the back.

“Okay,” Jack breathed. “So how ‘bout we get ready for bed, and tomorrow’ll be a new day, all right?”

After a long silence, Mac mumbled, “I need a shower.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Jack nosed at the top of the kid’s head until he shifted enough for Jack to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be right here.”

By the time Mac had finished showering, the small claw marks on his arms had all but disappeared. The marks he had made because he was tailspinning after being left alone for _thirty seconds_… 

Mac glared hatefully at the reflection in the mirror. _Stupid. Weak, stupid, useless…_

He threw his towel as hard as he could at the glass. It grazed the mirror and slid to the floor with an unsatisfying _floof_.

Mac knew what he needed to do.

He reached over and clicked the lock on the doorknob. Then he drew back his fist, pausing for just a second to relish the anticipation, and slammed with all his might into the mirror.

Glass shattered. Mac howled in triumph and pain, not realizing he was making a sound.

As he’d anticipated, the door shook as Jack fumbled with the knob. “Mac!”

A simple door wouldn’t keep Jack Dalton out for long, but it bought Mac enough time to haul back his fist and smash it into the remaining shards of the mirror, leaving bloody streaks.

Jack was faster than he’d expected. Before he could manage a third strike, the door crashed off its hinges, and Jack was tackling him, grabbing his arm and twisting so that when they landed in a graceless heap on the floor, Mac didn’t hit the tile, falling on top of Jack instead.

Mac automatically struggled against the arms pinning him down, pushing against Jack’s chest while simultaneously gripping the man’s shirt with his uninjured hand, trying to wriggle away while also attempting to bury himself in Jack’s embrace.

Eventually, he gave up all efforts, both those to free himself and those to seek comfort. He collapsed bonelessly on the floor, kept upright only because Jack was holding on as though he’d never let go.

It occurred to Mac, after he realized Jack was rocking back and forth, still cradling the boy in his arms, that Jack was sobbing.

“Oh, kiddo. Oh, son.”

Mac wondered idly what was making Jack weep like that, whispering the same words over and over, clutching a broken, worthless creature to his chest. It was…disconcerting.

“_Mac_.”

Mac looked up at the intensity in the man’s voice.

Jack appeared to have run out of words, instead lifting a hand to stroke his kid’s cheek.

“Mac, buddy, please…” Jack shook himself. “Please, kid, will you sit right here for me? And don’t move?” He pushed Mac onto the lid of the toilet seat. “Please?”

Mac blinked slowly. Jack wanted something, but he wasn’t making any sense.

“Stay? Please?”

Mac’s eyes drifted toward the jagged shards of glass still clinging to the cabinet frame.

“Mac.”

He looked up at Jack again.

“_Stay_. Okay?”

Mac blinked once more. “Stay,” he repeated, since Jack seemed fond of the word.

Jack gave a terse nod and disappeared. Mac just had time for a sinking sense of loss to settle in his chest when Jack darted back into the room.

“Just had to get the tweezers. You did good, bud. Good job.”

Jack was babbling now, and Mac recognized the chatter as the nervous distraction it was. He watched with detachment as Jack picked bits of glass out of his hand, pausing every few minutes to wipe at eyes that couldn’t lift to meet Mac’s. He waited patiently while Jack washed away the blood, flexed the fingers to make sure they weren’t broken, and wrapped the hand in gauze. He didn’t resist when Jack pressed the bandaged hand to his lips, over and over again, before pulling him to his feet and leading him through the busted door and into his bedroom.

“Mac? Hey, you with me?”

Mac nodded dully.

“Kid, I’ll give it a few more minutes, but if there’s still no lights on in there, we’re goin’ to Phoenix to have the docs check you out.”

“’M fine, Jack.”

“Well, that got your attention anyway. Sort of.”

Mac noticed he was standing by the bed, so he sat down.

“Hey, zombie-pup,” Jack cooed, as though he were talking to a toddler. “What comes after kingdom-file?”

“Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species,” Mac rattled off. He blinked in surprise at his mouth moving without conscious thought.

“There he is.” Jack sat on the bed next to his kid. “You really all there now?”

Mac cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. I guess.”

“You remember what happened?”

Mac nodded and shrugged at the same time.

“Yes, you remember, but maybe you don’t know why it happened?” Jack guessed.

For the hundredth time, Mac wondered how Jack managed to hide his perspicacity behind blather. It was obvious to Mac—but maybe that was only because Jack was way too perceptive when it came to his kid.

He listed to the side tiredly, and Jack immediately caught him, wrapping himself around the kid as though he could keep him from falling apart.

Maybe he could.

Mac wished he had the energy to tell Jack that he shouldn’t be wasting his time. He shouldn’t have tears in his eyes because Mac had hurt himself. Shouldn’t have one arm secured around the kid’s back while the other hand stroked his hair. Shouldn’t be rocking back and forth mumbling soothing nonsense. He shouldn’t _care_ so much.

“Wanna try to sleep, kiddo?”

Mac nodded into Jack’s collar and then forced himself to sit up. “Go ‘head.”

“Go ahead what?”

Mac didn’t look up. “Yell at me.”

“Mac…”

“Wanna sleep. Hurry up.” Mac thought his tone might qualify as a whine, but he didn’t care.

Jack folded the kid close to him again. “I’m not gonna yell at you, son. Not like you’re awake enough to pay attention anyway.”

“’M awake.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe we need to have this little chat in the morning.”

“Now.”

“Fine, have it your way. You know what you did?”

“Broke mirror.”

“Hey. I know you’re crashing from an adrenaline high, but there’s still a genius in there somewhere. You really think I care about the mirror?”

“Mm.”

“Yeah, that ain’t an answer.”

“Said you weren’t gonna yell.”

“I’m not—” Jack stopped and scrubbed his face with one hand. “Okay. Let me make this nice and simple for ya. You hurt yourself, and I know you knew what you were doin’ ‘cause you _locked the door_ first. So bathroom privileges are re—removed? No. Renovated? What’s the word I want?”

“Revoked?” Mac offered in a tiny voice, and Jack hid a smirk. He knew the kid was paying attention.

“Yeah, that. No more goin’ in by yourself for at least a week, until I know I can trust you. We’re on the buddy system all the time now, buddy.”

Mac huffed in displeasure into Jack’s shoulder.

“Guess until we fix that door, open-door policy is good enough.”

“Mean.”

“You wanna say that again?”

“Mm. Not fair.”

“That how we’re gonna play it? You really wanna continue this discussion later? ‘Cause I guarantee it’ll be a lot louder if we pick this up later.”

Mac was silent for a while. “When you shower too?”

Jack hummed. “Okay, good point. Hadn’t thought about that. We’ll figure something out. Maybe get Matty over here to babysit.”

“Mean.”

“Yeah, you said that already. But whatever you think, _somebody’s_ gotta have eyes on you at all times. Got it?”

Mac turned away.

“Mac. You hear me?”

More silence.

“Fine. You wanna pout for now, that’s fine. We’ll go over it again later.”

“O-_kay_,” Mac spat.

“Not loving the attitude, but fair enough. Guess I’d be mad at me too. That’s all right.”

Mac closed his eyes. Damn the man for being so _understanding_ all the time. “Tired.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Without releasing the kid, Jack scooted over so he could stretch out on the bed. “A good night’s sleep, how’s that sound?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: self-loathing, hyperventilation to the point of passing out, extremely mild self-injury (Jack this time), lots of guilt, the codependency has not improved
> 
> Please note that it is absolutely essential to have read just_another_outcast's [**Nature of the Beast**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583332), particularly chapters 10 and 11, in order for this chapter to make sense. (It might not make sense anyway, but there's at least a better chance.)

It was going to be a good day.

Jack smiled when he woke up. He felt more rested than he had in the past few weeks; he’d been jerked awake only twice by nightmares. Both times, Mac had been wrestling with nightmares as well, limbs twitching and non-bandaged fist clutching Jack’s shirt, but Jack had been able to settle the kid without fully waking him, smoothing his hair rhythmically and keeping his own breathing deep and regular. When Mac’s breathing evened out to match the pattern under his ear, Jack easily fell back asleep.

When morning arrived, Jack yawned and, as always, sniffed the air and listened for movement. He could hear Bozer snoring lightly in the other room, but otherwise there was no activity. Good. He looked down at the weight on his chest. Mac was tucked directly under his chin, sleeping relatively peacefully. That was exactly how Jack liked to wake up—to a calm, quiet house and his kid snuggled next to him.

Yep. Definitely going to be a good day.

Jack decided to let Mac sleep as long as he could, which meant Jack wasn’t going anywhere any time soon either. He didn’t mind. When the kid was asleep, he couldn’t object to the thumb stroking his cheek or the gentle kisses layered in his hair. Jack inhaled deeply, trying to expunge the memory of Murdoc’s scent on his kid, replacing it with the reality of Mac, here and whole, nestled partially on top of him.

Eventually, Bozer got up, and Jack tracked his movements through the house, smiling again when the scent of sizzling bacon wafted in. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Boze last night, and he was thankful there didn’t seem to be any hard feelings. Jack knew it had to be difficult, with him basically moving in, glued to Mac’s side, so Bozer never had any time alone with his best friend anymore. Plus, he was probably still reeling from finding out the secrets Mac, Jack, and the rest of the team had been keeping from him, followed almost immediately by the panic of Mac’s abduction. It was enough to make anyone a little crazy.

Jack sure felt that way.

Jack wasn’t insensitive. He knew perfectly well that Bozer had a problem specifically with him, but that was fine. He was unfailingly kind to Mac, and that was all that mattered. If he needed somebody to blame, Jack would rather it be him than the kid. And the shouting matches were pretty much his fault anyway, so Boze had a right to be mad about the disturbances in his environment. Not to mention, Jack had kind of lost it in Bozer’s direction last night; he owed him a better apology than the half-assed one he’d managed before shepherding Mac out of the room.

But today would be a good day. Mac was getting more sleep, so he’d be less likely to snap, and Jack wouldn’t take the bait if he did. No yelling today. That would make Bozer feel better, and maybe they could have another try at a team dinner, something they’d managed only once since Mac had returned home. They would all feel better after some time with their pack.

A very good day.

He began rubbing Mac’s back a little more firmly, hoping to coax him into wakefulness without startling him. He could see the kid’s nose twitching as breakfast odors grew stronger, so any minute now, Mac would wake up and smile sleepily, and Jack would resist teasing him until he knew the kid was in the mood for it, and they would have a good day.

That plan lasted all of fifteen minutes.

As usual, Mac yawned and stretched, Jack ducking just in time to avoid getting smacked in the face.

“Bacon?”

“Yep. What would we do without Bozer, right?”

“Mmm.” Mac dropped his head back to Jack’s shoulder to give himself more time to fully awaken. “You sleep?”

“Like a log,” Jack assured, stretching the truth only slightly. “You?”

Mac yawned again. “Yeah. Good.”

Starting the day with polite fibs was within the realm of normal. It would still be a good day.

“Hey, kiddo? Mind if I shower first?”

A slight pause, and then Mac slid onto the mattress so Jack could get up. “Yeah, okay.”

Jack frowned at the gauze on Mac’s hand. He didn’t want Mac to be out of his sight at all, but he also didn’t want to force him out of the warm, soft bed if he didn’t have to.

“You gonna sleep a few more minutes?”

Mac’s brows furrowed. “Maybe.”

“Okay, that’s fine, son. Just stay right here, all right?”

Mac rolled onto his side to look up at Jack. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Me? Nothing. Why?”

“You’re acting weird. Even for you.”

“Now, that ain’t very nice.” Before Mac could retort, Jack hopped out of bed, patting the kid’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back. _Stay here_, got it?”

Mac grunted something, eyes narrowed, but Jack was determined not to get into an argument and sped toward the en suite, pausing briefly to shove the broken door to the side.

In five minutes, Jack was out of the bathroom and breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Mac still stretched across the bed.

“Okay, your turn. If you want.”

Mac nodded. “Yeah. I need a shower.”

Jack said nothing but followed the kid into the bathroom.

“Jack—”

“Let me help you get that bandage off. Make it easier.”

“Oh.” Mac held out his hand so Jack could remove the gauze. The cuts were nearly healed. By the end of the day, they would probably be gone.

“Looking good, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

They stood silently for a minute.

“Um, you can go now.”

Jack tried to keep his voice light. “I’ll just turn around here, give you some privacy, okay?”

“Or you could _leave the room_. That would work even better.”

Jack tamped down the frustration that was rising to match the kid’s. “Mac, you remember what happened last night?”

He knew without looking that Mac’s jaw had tightened.

“Yeah.” The voice was clipped.

“And you remember what we talked about?”

“You mean when you unilaterally started making decisions for me?”

“Mac—”

“Jack, it was no big deal. See? Won’t even scar. So just…chill out, okay?”

“_Chill out_? Excuse me, but when—” Jack forced himself to stop, taking several deep breaths. “We don’t need to fight about this. I just want you to be safe, and it’s not like we ain’t showered in the same room before. I’ll wait right here, and you can take all the time you need. No rush. All right?”

Mac crossed his arms. “Or you could wait out there. Or even—and here’s a shocking idea—you could get out of my room completely.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “That really what you want?”

Mac didn’t budge. “Better than you hovering all the time. Like a creepy peeping tom.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your hearing going, old man? You heard what I said.”

“That really the way you want today to go? ‘Cause from I can see, there’s a little boy who’s so out of his head that maybe he can’t even get in the shower. I got no problem takin’ you outside and hosin’ you off instead.”

“Jack, just _go_ already!”

“I told you the answer’s no! The faster you get done, the sooner we get outta here for breakfast, so just suck it up already and let’s get a move on. You don’t get to be by yourself, and that’s final.”

“You don’t get to just decide that, Jack.”

“Uh, yeah, I think I do.”

“No—”

“Well, _one_ of us willfully injured himself last night. Let’s look in the mirror and see who it was. Oh, wait! We can’t.”

“_Jack_—”

“I’ve had enough of the arguin’. This is the way it’s gonna be for at least the next week.”

“That isn’t—”

“Any more outta you and it’ll be two weeks.”

Mac flushed a dark red. “You can’t just boss me around, Jack. You’re not my alpha.”

Jack couldn’t prevent the growl that rumbled in his throat. “Well, maybe I _should_ be. Then you’d do what you’re told, and I wouldn’t have to deal with a self-destructive pup who’s tryna give me more gray hairs.”

“_Deal_ with—” Mac’s breaths were coming hard and fast.

“We’re done with this discussion, kid. You have two options. Option one, I wait here while you shower, or option two, you can skip it and we’ll go eat. Pick one.”

“You—”

Jack realized, too late, the kid was hyperventilating.

“Mac—”

Mac’s eyes rolled back as he crashed to the floor.

~~~

When Mac came to, Bozer was kneeling next to him, smelling of bacon and fear.

“Mac?”

Mac blinked, lifting a shaky hand to his head. Why did it hurt?

And where was Jack?

“J’ck?”

“Hey, man, you with me? It’s me.” Bozer patted Mac’s shoulder.

Mac focused blearily on his friend’s face. “Boze?”

“Yeah, dude. There you are.”

“Where’s Jack?”

It took Bozer a minute to answer. “Hey, let’s get you up off the floor, all right?” He lifted Mac’s arm and guided it around his own shoulders. “Think you can do this?”

Mac allowed Bozer to pull him into a sitting position, wincing at the lance of pain behind his eyes. “Bozer. Where’s Jack? What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it, man. I’m not gonna let you fall again, all right? But you gotta help me out.”

Together, the two managed to lever Mac onto his feet, and Bozer half-dragged his friend out of the bathroom and let him collapse on his bed.

“Okay, you want breakfast? I made waffles.”

“And bacon,” Mac said dreamily, a faint smile playing at his lips.

“Yeah, of course,” Bozer scoffed. “Wouldn’t be breakfast without it, right? Want me to grab you a plate?”

The smile dropped instantly, and Mac sat up, leaning back against the headboard. “Bozer. What happened?”

Bozer chewed on his lip. “What do you remember?”

Mac thought for a second. “I think…” He hesitated, not willing to give voice to the memories that flooded back. “I don’t know.”

Bozer’s eyebrows raised. “You don’t know? Well, all I know is one minute I’m working my magic in the kitchen, and the next thing I know, Jack is screaming his head off.”

“Jack…” Mac looked around as though he could conjure the man.

“So I come runnin’ in here, and you’re on the floor, and Jack is—” Bozer broke off abruptly. “I don’t even know what to tell you.”

“Boze.”

“I don’t _know_, Mac. I’ve never seen him like that before. When I asked him what happened, all he would say is that you he caught you, but you still knocked your head a little bit. Why were you falling?”

Mac shook his head in the smallest gesture possible, careful of his headache.

Bozer’s voice hardened. “Mac. What did he do to you?”

_You know what Murdoc did to me_, Mac thought dully. _Everybody knows, and nobody will ever look at me the same…_

“_Mac_. I know you look up to him, but it is not okay for him to hurt you.”

Mac squinted at his friend. “Huh?”

“Maybe I can’t kick his ass, but I bet Matty can, and Riley’ll help. I can call right now—”

“Bozer.” Mac stretched out a hand, batting ineffectually at Bozer’s phone. “You think _Jack_ would ever—” The concept was so ludicrous, Mac couldn’t complete the sentence.

Bozer crossed his arms. “Well, explain to me how you’re on the floor with Jack standing over you, looking—I don’t know—angry and terrified and—and _guilty_—”

“No,” Mac tried to cut in.

“And why he tells me to tell you he’s sorry and then lights outta here like he’s on fire.”

Mac struggled to sit fully upright. “Where’d he go?”

“Man, have you not heard a word I said? I’m not lettin’ him anywhere near you.”

“Bozer.” Mac tried to tamp down his rising panic. “It wasn’t Jack’s fault. I just…fell, all right?”

“Even you don’t just fall for no reason. The floor wasn’t wet, so you didn’t slip, and I didn’t see anything you could trip on.”

Bozer was much more observant than most people gave him credit for, Mac reflected. That was not helpful in this case.

“Bozer. I need Jack here. Please, can you call him?” It hurt to admit, but it was all Mac could do to stop himself from clawing at the bite on his shoulder, the one that would never fully heal. Jack was always there to make sure Mac didn’t get lost in his own mind, that he didn’t injure himself, that he knew he was safe. Jack was _always_ there.

“No, man,” Bozer said sadly. “I can’t do that. Not until—”

“Just call him!”

Bozer leaped off the bed, eyes wide, staring at the glowing blue eyes and glistening fangs. “Mac…” he placated, hands raised.

“_Now_, Bozer.” The small bump on the back of his head was already nearly gone, and Mac stood. “I need—” Mac stopped suddenly, head dropping, werewolf features vanishing. “Unless you think he doesn’t want to come back.”

Bozer could barely make out the whispered words. “Man, how bad did he mess you up?” At that moment, Bozer himself wasn’t sure if he meant Jack or Murdoc or even Mac’s father.

“Everybody leaves,” Mac said to himself, still looking at the floor. “Mu-he was right. Everybody leaves.”

Bozer took a deep breath, stepped forward, and pulled his friend into a hug. “That isn’t true, man. I’m right here. And—” He swallowed his bitterness. “Hey, it’s no secret I don’t love Jack for dragging you into this whole…_werewolf_ business.” He steamrolled over Mac’s attempts to protest. “But he’s also had your back from day one, and he worked harder than anybody to get you home. And yeah, it’s been hard seeing you two joined at the hip, but I guess if that’s what you need, who am I to say what’s right for someone else, right?”

Mac’s expression softened as he studied his friend.

“So, I guess…” Bozer inhaled deeply. “If you can tell me he didn’t make you pass out in there, I’ll call him. Or better yet, I’ll drive you over to Phoenix, and you can meet him at Dr. Lightfeld’s.”

At the mention of their therapist, Mac looked at the clock. “Appointment’s not for another three hours.”

“Yeah, well, you can be fashionably early. But, bro, I need to know that Jack didn’t—”

“He didn’t.”

Bozer looked skeptical. “Yeah, you say that, but do you even remember—”

“I remember. It wasn’t—” Mac winced. “I mean, what he said just…”

“_What_ did he say?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. He didn’t mean to.”

“Mac. What did he say to you?”

Mac shuffled a few steps away. “It just…brought back some memories. That’s all. He wasn’t trying to—to hurt me—or—”

“But he knew what he was saying?”

“Let it go, Boze,” Mac said sullenly. “He didn’t mean to, and…he kind of had a point…”

“Mac, when are you gonna stop blaming yourself for what other people do? Jack is a grown man who can make his own decisions. And maybe he didn’t use his fists, but he still _hurt_ you—”

“Only because I did first!”

There was a heavy silence.

“_What_ did you say?” Bozer finally asked cautiously.

Mac was breathing heavily. “He was trying to keep me safe. From _me_.”

“Mac…” Bozer trailed off uncertainly, reaching for his friend.

“Bozer, please. Just call him. Tell him I’m sorry, and—”

“Yeah, that’s what he said,” Bozer grumbled. “You two just trade apologies back and forth and then keep on doin’ the same thing?”

Mac shook his head, confused. “He shouldn’t apologize. I was the one—”

“Stow it, man. I don’t wanna hear it. I’ll call him, but I’m _not_ gonna tell him you’re sorry.”

“But I—”

“No. No way. He’s the one who upset you and then flew outta here like a bat outta hell. Don’t you dare apologize for any of that.”

Mac dropped his head, and Bozer took that as close to acquiescence as he would get. He reluctantly hit Jack’s number on his phone.

“Hey…Riley? What are you doing with—” Bozer listened. “Ah. Yeah, same here. What do you think?” Bozer turned away, pressing his phone closer to his ear, not sure if Mac’s superior hearing could pick up the other end of the conversation. “Uh-huh. Yeah, that’s what I said. All right. See ya.”

Bozer hung up and turned to Mac. “Riley’s with Jack. She’s gonna bring him to Dr. Lightfeld’s office. We can meet them there.” He hesitated. “Okay?”

Mac was frowning. “Yeah, okay.” As the two exited the room, Bozer heard him mutter, “He’s with _Riley_…?”

~~~

Jack didn’t remember the speed-limit-defying drive to Phoenix. He didn’t remember grabbing his workout clothes from his locker or entering the gym, empty at this time of day.

The first thing he remembered was the satisfying thud of fist against punching bag, a small jolt of pain that wasn’t enough.

His next hit was harder, and the next harder still, punishing his hands. The hanging bag weaved in its jerky pattern. Jack spun and slammed a bare foot into the swinging weight, sending the bag sailing into a nearly ninety-degree angle.

“Whoa, Jack, take it easy. Some of us might want to use that thing after you.”

Drenched in sweat, Jack whipped around, crouching defensively even as he recognized Riley’s voice. He forced himself to relax his posture, not wanting to make her nervous.

Riley was clad in her own workout gear, hair pulled up and away from her face, which wore a concerned frown.

“Jack?” She stepped a little closer. “Are you okay? Where’s Mac?” Her stomach dropped. “What happened?”

Jack growled, “Don’t wanna talk about it, Ri.” He slammed his elbow into the bag behind him, turning and following up with a right hook and then a left.

“Jack.” Riley ignored the danger signals Jack was emitting and moved closer. “You need to talk to me. What happened? Is Mac okay?”

“No thanks to me,” Jack hissed, still focused on beating the punching bag into submission.

Riley was silent for a while, watching Jack systematically destroy his favorite piece of gym equipment. His claws weren’t out, but he was using werewolf strength, and the seams of the bag were beginning to give. It wouldn’t last much longer.

A chain ended up snapping before the seams burst. Jack came to an abrupt halt, panting, dripping sweat, and cursing like Riley had never heard before.

“Jack?” She approached tentatively.

For the first time, Jack seemed to really see her. “Ri.” He grimaced. “Uh, sorry about that. Don’t…repeat any of that, okay?”

Riley let out a slightly hysterical laugh. _That’s_ what Jack was apologizing for? “I’m a big girl, Jack. Not like that’s the first time I’ve heard some…_colorful_ language.”

“Well, you shouldn’t hear it from your—” Jack cut himself off.

Riley wondered if he’d been about to call himself her alpha. As a born wolf, her werewolf father was technically her alpha and would be as long as he were alive. But Riley hadn’t seen him in years. Jack was the closest thing she had to a dad.

She decided to ignore that thread of conversation and focus on a more urgent matter. “Jack, where’s Mac?”

“With Bozer,” he replied shortly, studying the weighted bag as if wondering if it could take another round suspended by just two chains.

“Okay.” Riley took a deep breath, collecting her patience. “As much as I think it’s great you two aren’t glued to each other right now, that seems a little…sudden. Did something happen?”

Jack didn’t turn to look at her. “Let it go, Ri.”

Riley lifted her chin defiantly. “Jack, you and Mac are part of my pack. My _family_. And you’re the one who taught me that family comes first. That you do whatever you have to for family.” She stepped onto the mat, letting her claws spring out. “So if that means you need a sparring partner that’s more of a challenge than that bag…”

Jack twitched uncomfortably. “Not right now, sweetheart,” he said gruffly. “Don’t wanna hurt you.” He knew how capable Riley was—he’d spent hours training her in close combat—but they weren’t evenly matched. In human form, Riley was half Jack’s size; as a werewolf, a halfblood would never be a strong as a pureblood wolf. Right now, Jack didn’t trust himself to hold back as he normally did when they sparred.

“You can try, old man,” Riley dared, circling Jack in a predatory crouch.

“No, honey, I don’t—”

He was cut off by a kick to the back of one knee that nearly drove him to the floor. His inhuman reflexes kept him from falling, and he spun without thinking, but Riley was fast too, and she had already danced out of reach.

“_Riley_. Stop it. I’m not—”

Jack was holding up his hands, giving Riley the opportunity to dive forward and land a blow to Jack’s side.

“Riley!” Jack put a hand on his ribs, leaning slightly away from the young werewolf.

“You can talk to me or fight me, Jack,” Riley said evenly, darting behind Jack and slamming her heel into his back, just above a kidney. Jack’s healing powers were impressive, but she had no desire to cause any real damage, however temporary.

Jack was steaming now, and Riley knew he would break. When she jabbed his ear, he roared and rushed at her, moving faster than he ever did when they trained together. In an instant, he had her pinned to the mat, snarling into her face.

“Riley Davis, that’s enough!”

Riley stopped struggling, schooling her features into a façade of calm. “Are you ready to talk now?”

But Jack was staring at the arm pressed lightly against Riley’s throat. “Oh, honey, no, no, I—”

“Jack.” Riley sat up as Jack rolled off her. “It’s okay. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Jack was shaking his head. “You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I _can_.”

Jack lifted his face from his hands, eyes red rimmed. “That’s what Mac thought too.”

Riley felt her heart clench. “Wh-_what_ happened to Mac?”

“I—” Jack’s voice broke, and he buried his face in his arms, curling up against the wall, more miserable than Riley had ever seen him. “Oh, God, what did I do?”

After a second of hesitation, Riley scooted forward, leaning against Jack’s side and wrapping her arms around him. “Jack, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. You said Mac was with Bozer. So he’s safe, right?”

The muffled words could have been _from me_, but Riley chose to ignore that for now.

“And he isn’t hurt? He doesn’t need a hospital or anything?”

Riley’s matter-of-fact tone was starting to pierce through Jack’s misery. He shook his head.

“Don’t think so. He went down like a sack of potatoes, but I think I got him before…it was just a little bump. I think.” Jack was talking faster. “I shoulda checked him out better. I mean, he wasn’t even _awake_ when—what if he—”

“Hey. Hey! Jack!” Riley snapped her fingers in Jack’s face. “He was unconscious? Okay. If he didn’t wake up, Bozer would have called for help already. Right?”

Jack took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Riley considered her next question, recognizing the need to tread carefully to prevent Jack from spiraling out again.

“Jack?” She dropped her cheek onto Jack’s shoulder, letting her closeness reassure him. “Why would you leave if Mac—if Mac needed you?”

Jack looked down, but he didn’t push Riley away. “He…he needed…I hurt him, Ri.”

Riley’s arms tightened. “No. I don’t believe that. You couldn’t hurt me, and you definitely couldn’t hurt Mac.”

“Yeah, maybe not like that—” Jack gestured vaguely at the floor mat. “But…I _knew_ what Murdoc said to him, and I said it anyway.”

Riley’s throat tightened at the mention of the psychopathic werewolf, and it was several minutes before she could speak.

“I bet Mac doesn’t blame you,” she said quietly, deciding the words that had been exchanged were none of her business unless Jack wanted to share. It was more important to focus on what she knew to be true.

Jack snorted. “Probably not. Probably blames himself, stupid kid…”

“Probably,” Riley agreed gently. “And I’m sure you running away from him isn’t making it any better.”

Jack groaned. “You’re right. God, of course you’re right…” His voice dropped until it was nearly inaudible. “Poor kid…deserves so much better than me…”

Before Riley could respond, she heard Jack’s phone ring. Jack didn’t look up, so she retrieved his phone from the bench and looked at the caller ID. Bozer. She answered.

“Hey, Bozer.”

_“Hey…Riley? What are you doing with—”_

“I’m here with Jack, Boze. At the Phoenix gym. He’s…not doing so great.”

_“Ah. Yeah, same here. What do you think?”_

“Well, I hate to say it, since they’re finally spending some time apart, but I think we’ve got to get them back together. Don’t they have a counseling session today?”

_“Uh-huh_.”

“Maybe it’d help if they met with Dr. Lightfeld.”

_“Yeah, that’s what I said.”_

“You wanna bring Mac, and I’ll get Jack up there?”

_“All right. See ya.”_

Riley clicked off the phone, offering it to Jack, who didn’t seem to notice. She sighed.

“Hey, Jack? Bozer’s gonna bring Mac over, okay? How about you hit the shower, and then we’ll go wait by Dr. Lightfeld’s office, all right?”

Jack looked up, eyes blank.

“Jack.” Riley put her hands on her hips. “Shower. Then Mac. Got it?”

“M-Mac?” Jack struggled to his feet.

“It’ll take Bozer a little time to get him here. You have time to freshen up.” Riley’s nose wrinkled. “And, man, do you need it. Go shower.” She shoved him toward the locker room, and Jack finally took the hint and trotted off, still looking dazed.

When Jack emerged, Riley had found some beef jerky stashed in her gym bag, which she forced on Jack as she led him upstairs to the therapist’s office. There, they found out that Mac and Jack were not, in fact, her only patients, and they would need to wait until their scheduled appointment time. Riley dragged Jack back into the empty hallway and convinced him to sit on the floor while they waited, curling up into his shoulder. Jack held her tightly, as though she were the only thing keeping him from breaking apart.

~~~

Bozer wasn’t able to talk Mac into stopping and eating breakfast, but he grabbed a few slices of bacon and handed them to Mac when they were in the car. Mac gnawed at them distractedly.

“Hey, man, Riley and I are gonna be right there, okay?” Bozer glanced worriedly at his passenger. “We won’t leave until you want us to. Or we can get Jack to leave if you wanna see the doc by yourself. It’s totally up to you, all right?”

Mac twitched one shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Just need J—need to talk to Jack.”

“Mac…I’m always gonna be on your side, okay? So if you aren’t safe with him, I won’t—”

“That’s the _only_ place I’m safe!” Mac flushed. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it shut Bozer up.

Bozer was remembering all the times Mac had come home, supposedly from a business trip, with a vague excuse of a car accident or clumsiness to explain away his injuries. He remembered the suspicions he’d harbored about Mac’s partner, and how those dark thoughts had only eased after he’d seen the infinite tenderness Jack had displayed, over and over again, when he helped Mac into the house, settled him on the couch, tucked a blanket over him, or any of a hundred tiny gestures that made Mac look at him as though he hung the moon.

That didn’t mean Bozer had been fully willing to trust Jack yet. Mac might be the smartest guy Bozer knew, but he had a huge blind spot in that he desperately wanted to be seen as good enough, to be _wanted_. Bozer knew what Mac’s dad’s absence had done to him, and just because Mac had latched onto his former Overwatch didn’t mean Jack had the noblest of intentions. So Bozer watched, observing the puppyish desire for approval, yes, but also a new confidence that Mac had never shown before. He teased Jack relentlessly, never appearing even the slightest bit afraid of the man, even when Jack mock-threatened. But more than that, Mac seemed somehow certain that someone would always have his back, that he wasn’t facing the world alone anymore.

And as Bozer got to know Jack, he had to admit that he was a pretty cool guy. He told entertaining stories, as many self-deprecating as boastful, and he was able to get Mac out of his head in a way even Bozer never could. And one night, after a few more beers than usual, Jack actually _thanked_ Bozer for being such a good friend to “his kid.”

But what really convinced Bozer of Jack’s sincerity was the feral-dog incident.

Mac and Jack had just pulled up to the house. Bozer was inside, but he saw them through the window. As the two got out of the car, a dog Bozer had noticed wandering by a few times that day rushed toward Mac’s side of the car, teeth bared, snarling.

Bozer didn’t even have time to shout. In the blink of an eye, Jack slid across the hood and stood in front of Mac, just…_staring_ the animal down.

With his newfound knowledge, Bozer realized that the undercurrents he hadn’t understood must have been Jack’s werewolf scent permeating the dog’s consciousness. From his discussions with Matty, Bozer figured that dogs recognized a stronger alpha. Jack had simply asserted his dominance.

At the time, Bozer didn’t know any of that and was astonished when the dog slunk away. After watching it go, both Jack and Mac relaxed, smiling and chatting as if nothing had happened. They said nothing to Bozer when they came inside, but he heard Mac later making a discreet call to Animal Control.

So as hard as it had been to watch Mac rebuilding his life like a vine twining around a stake, with Jack as the central post, up until a few days ago, Bozer would have bet his life that Jack would never hurt Mac, not in any way, shape, or form. He was still inclined to believe Jack wouldn’t _want_ to.

But good intentions didn’t always mean good actions. And maybe the very fact of their codependence meant that they couldn’t help but hurt each other somehow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: _extremely_ non-graphic suicide attempt, belief a person has no self-worth, jealousy, more codependency

Jack heard them coming before Riley did and was on his feet a second later, reaching out in a silent apology for nearly knocking her to the floor, even as his attention was fixed on the end of the hallway. Mindful of the need for caution, Riley got a firm grip on Jack’s arm with both hands, ready to dig in her heels if Jack took off.

Mac wasn’t _running_ when he came around the corner, but he was moving fast enough that Bozer had a hard time keeping up with him. He stopped dead, and Bozer slammed into him from behind.

“Mac.” Jack’s voice reverberated with…_grief_?

Riley glanced up at him and tightened her hold. “Wait, Jack. Let him come to you.”

“Jack,” Mac called in relief, stumbling forward after his collision with Bozer.

Bozer opened his mouth to offer a warning, but he couldn’t think of what to say. Mac reeled almost drunkenly toward Jack and Riley. Bozer arched his eyebrows at Riley in a silent question. She tipped her head in response, an _I don’t know_ gesture.

“Mac, kiddo, you okay? Are you—” Jack was choking on his words, and he kept inching forward, slowly dragging Riley along with him.

Mac’s hands twitched, hesitating, and then one arm reached in Jack’s direction, a clear invitation.

No, Bozer thought critically. It wasn’t a request. It was a command.

At that moment, Bozer felt his worry dissipate.

Jack responded instantly, stepping forward. Riley gave up and let go, and Jack gathered Mac in the tightest bear hug he could.

“I’m so sorry, kid. I’m so sorry,” he whispered repeatedly.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Mac was murmuring at the same time, face buried in Jack’s shirt.

Riley caught Bozer’s eye. “We’ll…give you two some time,” she said gently. Jack and Mac ignored her.

“Mac, you sure you want me to go?” Bozer knew what the answer would be, but he had to check, to follow through on his promise. “Remember what we talked about.”

“Go ahead, Bozer,” Mac said, not lifting his head.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” If anything, Mac burrowed even closer to Jack, who appeared to be attempting a boa constrictor impression. Mac wasn’t objecting.

“Okay,” Bozer said softly, joining Riley. The two walked in silence for a minute.

“You’re a good friend, Boze.”

He smiled slightly. “You too.”

“You know Jack was only able to leave Mac because he trusts you.”

“You know what? I think maybe I can trust him too.”

Riley’s relieved smile showed she hadn’t missed the tension between Jack and Bozer.

“I’m scheduled to work this afternoon. Think I should call in, or…?”

“No, go on. They’ll be okay. I’ll hang out here until their appointment’s over, just in case.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, of course. My rig is upstairs. I’ve got plenty I can do to keep me busy.” Riley offered another smile. “Thanks for being my fellow stubborn-werewolf wrangler.”

Bozer laughed. “Yeah. Any time.”

~~~

Somehow, Jack and Mac managed to shuffle into an empty office across the hall without loosening their grip on one another.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jack pressed his lips close to Mac’s ear, tears getting lost in the soft blond hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, kiddo. I never shoulda—”

Mac shook his head, nose cold against Jack’s collarbone, inhaling his scent. “No, I’m sorry, Jack. I—I should’ve just done what you said; you were trying to protect me, and—please don’t leave again.” Mac looked up, eyes red and watery.

“Never gonna leave you, son,” Jack said huskily. “And it was _not your fault_. You hear me?”

Mac didn’t reply other than to press his face into Jack’s shoulder. Jack felt carefully along the kid’s scalp, pausing to graze his nails against the skin in the way that always made Mac relax. When Mac flinched slightly, Jack murmured apologies, checking the sore spot. He knew the hyperventilation had made Mac pass out before he’d hit the ground, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t injured himself when Jack hadn’t caught him as quickly as he should have.

“Just a bruise.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that too many times to take your word for it, hoss.” He prodded a little harder but when Mac barely reacted, Jack couldn’t be sure if that were obstinance or an actual lack of pain. “You gonna fight me on this, kid?”

Mac immediately sagged. “No. Sorry. You can check.”

“Aw, pup.” Jack sighed, scratched the back of his neck, and had an idea. “Hey, sit down here, all right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, pushing Mac onto a settee.

“What—”

Before Mac could finish his question, Jack had shifted. The wolf sniffed over the kid extremely thoroughly, gently nipping at Mac’s fingers when they tried to push him away. Mac gave up and lay back, allowing Jack to take his time.

Finally satisfied that Mac was mostly in the same condition, the wolf licked the kid’s face and neck, nosing at his shirt collar insistently until Mac reluctantly unfastened a few buttons, giving access to the wound on his shoulder. While the scar would never disappear, the massive bite looked better than it had. Just to be sure, the wolf laved it with his tongue again, ignoring the conversations they’d had about whether this really helped. Jack maintained that it did, citing years of experience with wolves caring for each other this way when they were injured. Mac said it probably didn’t, pointing out that “not making it worse” was not the same as “helping.” As usual, they more or less agreed to disagree and conveniently couldn’t argue about it while Jack was in wolf form.

Jack finally determined he had done all he could and stretched comfortably on top of the now-reclining Mac. One hand began lazily scratching behind a furry ear, and the long tail started to wave. The wolf nudged Mac’s chin, encouraging the scratches, until Mac brought up the other hand to attend to both ears at once. The wolf whined in pleasure.

Eventually, Mac’s fingers stilled but remained entwined in the thick fur. Jack seemed content to snooze on his chest, and although the weight was significant, Mac didn’t mind.

“Don’t change back yet, okay?” he whispered so quietly that human ears wouldn’t have heard even from mere inches away.

The wolf’s head lifted, golden eyes glinting suspiciously.

Mac squirmed under the scrutiny. “Just…cold.” He pulled the warm furry creature closer to illustrate his point.

Jack growled, nosing Mac’s cheek.

Mac ignored the warning. “We still have time before our appointment. Actually, Dr. Lightfeld probably wouldn’t care if you came as a wolf.”

As the only werewolf in the building capable of fully shifting, Jack didn’t usually do so in front of others. Most of the Phoenix agents had never seen his wolf form. For Mac to suggest, even casually, that Jack shouldn’t shift back for their appointment…

Jack gave the kid a _What’s going on? _look, which Mac predictably pretended not to notice or understand. The wolf rolled onto the floor, Mac making a noise of surprise and displeasure at the loss of warmth.

“All right, kid, what’s going on?” Jack was human again, and even sitting on the floor, he wore his most intimidating frown, the one that said he better like whatever he heard next.

Mac looked away.

“Mac?” Jack’s voice gentled. “C’mon, what is it? You know you’re a lousy liar.” He shoved at the kid until he sat up, giving Jack room on the couch. He put an arm around Mac, sharing his body heat, despite knowing the “cold” excuse hadn’t been true.

Mac drew back slightly, and Jack bit his lip as he let his arm drop. “Okay. That’s fair,” he said quietly. “I don’t deserve you. I know that, son, and I’m really, really sorry. Please tell me how to make it up to you. You—” Jack’s breath caught as he imagined the possibilities. “You want me to give you some space?”

“No.” Mac’s immediate answer eased Jack’s concerns, although one corner of his mind screamed that their codependency wasn’t getting better. “Just…can’t you go back to wolf?”

Jack was silent for a minute. “I will if you want me to,” he finally said. “But can I know why?”

“Isn’t me asking enough?” Mac’s jaw was set stubbornly.

“Mac…”

Mac turned away, crossing his arms.

“You tired of listenin’ to me talk? That it? I can stay quiet, you know.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Hey. You’re startin’ to worry me, brother. More than usual, I mean. If you don’t wanna talk until we get in with the doc, that’s fine. But if there’s somethin’ going on that you need me to know…”

“You smell like Riley, okay?” Mac spat. “Her scent is all over your shirt. In wolf form, you just smell like…wolf. Like you.”

Jack blinked several times. “You got a problem with Riley?”

Mac didn’t answer.

Jack thought back over the past several days, recalling Mac’s outburst about Jack wanting to protect Riley. He’d been so hurt by the _dad_ comment that he hadn’t really thought about what lay behind the words.

“Mac…” he said slowly. “Are you jeal—do you think Riley is more important than you are?”

Instead of responding, Mac threw him a halfhearted glare over his shoulder.

“Kiddo—” Jack was at a loss. How did a childless bachelor somehow end up mediating sibling rivalry?

But he wouldn’t trade either one of his kids.

Mac had started talking again, still facing away from Jack. “She’s been a wolf her whole life. She has way more experience than me, so she—I won’t be as good as her.”

“That’s not—”

He didn’t let Jack continue. “And you—you treat her like she’s—” He couldn’t finish the thought.

“Mac—”

“And she isn’t—isn’t _broken_. She’s—not like—”

“_Mac_.” In the blink of an eye, Jack had his arms around his kid. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You are _not_—”

“Yes, I am,” Mac said flatly. “I’m a mess. Hopeless. And everyone can see it, Jack. Everyone but you. Matty knows it, and—”

Jack tuned out Mac’s diatribe as he grabbed a magazine from the low table and slowly, deliberately rolled it into a cylinder, tapping the edges to ensure there were no loose pages. Just as deliberately, he lifted the tube-shaped magazine. Mac stopped midsentence, staring.

Jack rapped Mac’s nose sharply with the magazine. Mac yelped and jerked back, eyes crossing slightly.

“What-what-what—”

“Do I have your attention now?” Jack broke into the stuttering.

Still wide-eyed, Mac nodded.

“Okay. Pop used to do that,” Jack added parenthetically. “Worked every time.”

Mac’s lips slid into a frown as he rubbed the tip of his nose. It didn’t hurt, but it had been surprising enough that he felt the impact lingering on his skin.

“Now listen. You talk about yourself that way again, and you an’ me are gonna have a problem, got it?”

“What—”

“You are _not_ broken. You are _not_ a lost cause. You’re still _you_, Mac. Still—”

“No.” Mac leaned back out of reach of the magazine and crossed his arms. “I’m nothing anymore.”

“Son, don’t—”

“You don’t have to pretend, Jack. I know—I know what I am. I can see it every time I look in the mirror.”

Jack’s eyes widened as he thought about all the mirrors that had been “accidentally” broken during their arguments over the past few weeks. He cursed himself. He should have picked up on that earlier.

“And you should just—just go ahead and leave. Work with Riley. Go—”

“You stop right there, Angus MacGyver,” Jack said sternly. “I am not goin’ _anywhere_, and there is nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

Mac just shook his head, not looking up.

“What would make you think I’d ever leave you? I need you, kid. You know that.”

Mac shook his head again. “Everybody leaves. He was right.”

Jack could barely breathe. “Who was right, bud?”

“M-Murdoc. He—he knew everything about me, Jack.” Mac finally looked up, face a picture of misery. “He knew _everything_. Everybody leaves me. ‘Cause I’m not—I’m not worth—”

“Mac.” Tears were streaming down Jack’s face, but he didn’t notice as he grabbed Mac’s head between both hands. “That bastard didn’t know anything. He didn’t know anything about you, you hear me?”

“He—”

“No. I don’t care what he said. He was _wrong_. You’ve been through an awful lot, kid, but that just made you even kinder and more amazing and—and _stronger_—”

“Not strong. Can’t even manage thirty minutes without y—without someone there.”

“Mac.” Jack spoke very gently. “I can’t either. You’re outta my sight more than a few minutes and I start panicking. You been paying attention to the doc at all? PTSD’s a bitch, man. It’ll take time to shake. For both of us.”

“But what if it never—”

“No. We’ll get through this, buddy. We’re not gonna let that SOB have the last word.”

Mac’s fingers fiddled in his lap for a moment. “He was right.”

“_No_, he wasn’t,” Jack said more forcefully.

Mac met his eyes, looking resigned and exhausted. “He said I’d been treating you like—like my alpha. Like my—” He looked away again and spoke almost inaudibly. “He was right about that.”

Jack could barely speak around the lump in his throat. “Even a broken watch is right once a day,” he said with a levity he did not feel. “Is that—” He hesitated, not sure how to phrase the question. “Is that not something—not what you want?”

Mac said nothing.

“’Cause I—I’ve thought of you as my kid for a long time, s—Mac. I couldn’t be prouder of you if you _were_ mine, and—” Jack swiped at his eyes with the back of one hand. “Damn, you’re makin’ me soft.”

He was rewarded with a low snort of derision.

“And as for the rest of it…” Jack tilted his head back and forth, trying to loosen the stiffness in his neck and shoulders.

“It’s fine, Jack,” Mac said quietly. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Jack was silent for a while, trying to figure out what he wanted to say and what Mac needed him to say.

“Hey, Mac? You know why a pack has an alpha?”

Mac shrugged. “So there’s just one person—wolf—giving orders. More efficient.”

“No. Well, I mean, sure that’s part of it, when it’s necessary, but bein’ an alpha ain’t about bossin’ the pack around, you get what I’m sayin’?”

“What _are_ you saying?”

Jack sighed. “Mac, an alpha—a _good_ alpha, like my daddy, or Matty—”

“Or you.”

“Thanks, kid. An alpha’s job is to protect the pack. To be the designated risk-taker. To—to sacrifice himself, if he has to, to make sure the pack is safe.”

Mac opened his mouth to protest, but Jack kept going.

“I’m not your alpha, but you _are_ part of my pack. The most important part. And I will do _anything_ to keep you safe. You hear me?”

Mac was silent for a long time, looking down at the floor. Jack sat quietly as well, not willing to intrude on the kid’s thoughts until he was ready to share.

“It’s time,” Mac said finally.

Jack gaped at him blankly before realizing they only had a few minutes before their appointment with Dr. Lightfeld. All right. Maybe Mac would open up when prodded by their therapist. It hadn’t happened much to date, but Jack could always hope.

They walked across the hall without speaking. Just before reaching for the door, Mac paused.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“I think maybe…can you wait out here?” At Jack’s frown, he added hastily, “I’d like to talk to her alone today.”

Questions flooded Jack’s mind. _Are you really going to talk? Are you just trying to avoid me? Do you think Doc will let you get away without talking if I’m not there? Do you need to talk about a problem you have with me? Will I be able to manage a whole hour without seeing you?_

His heart sank with each new thought, but he kept his voice neutral as he said, “Sure, bud. Okay if I wait right here?”

From the speed with which Mac nodded, Jack deduced the kid had been worried about being separated as well. He wasn’t sure if he was glad about that or not. He forced himself to take deep breaths as Mac closed the door behind him.

~~~

There was a reason Mac hated therapy. A reason beyond being constantly reminded how messed up he was, that is.

Mac had been sitting stubbornly closemouthed for at least six minutes, refusing to break the silence Dr. Lightfeld was allowing—_forcing_ on him.

He’d just wanted someone to say that he wasn’t imagining things. Sure, he knew he was broken beyond all repair, but he was still smart enough to see what was happening right in front of his face.

Jack wanted Riley. He would rather spend time with her than with Mac.

Mac couldn’t blame him for that, not really. Mac would choose anyone’s company over his own, would rather hear any voice other than the one in his head.

But it still _hurt_.

He’d survived Murdoc’s torture by telling himself that Jack would come for him, that Jack would find him. And Jack hadn’t let him down.

But Mac had let Jack down.

He was useless now. He couldn’t work, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t even _sleep_ right. He’d actually _passed out_ because of a meaningless comment spoken in the heat of the moment. No wonder Jack would rather trade him in for a different kid. No wonder he had left Mac and run straight to Riley.

It wasn’t really Riley’s fault either. Not her fault she was so good at what she did, that she’d been there to support Jack when Mac wasn’t. No wonder Jack preferred her.

And he’d just wanted Dr. Lightfeld to agree, to acknowledge that Jack was obviously merely putting up with Mac until he could spend time with Riley, hoping to get Mac to a place that he could be left alone so he didn’t have to _babysit_ all the time. So he didn’t have to feel responsible for a stupid, worthless kid.

If Dr. Lightfeld would just let him know he wasn’t completely crazy, that he still understood what was happening—that’s all he’d wanted. But typical shrink. She wouldn’t do it. She just kept asking what made him think like that, and even after he’d very logically listed his evidence, she still hadn’t said he was right. Kept pushing him to talk more.

Well, he was done talking. If she wasn’t going to cooperate with him, he could think of no reason to cooperate with her. It wasn’t as though she’d be releasing him to work any time soon.

His thoughts drifted to Jack, not for the first time. Jack had promised to wait right outside, and Jack didn’t break his promises, so he would still be there, probably restless and impatient and wondering what in the world he was doing hanging around while his idiot partner—_former_ partner—was having his head examined. And coming up lacking.

Riley might still be in the building. Mac had no idea where she and Bozer had gone—he’d been too consumed with his need for Jack to be aware of anyone else—but Riley wasn’t benched. She could be working.

So even though Jack wouldn’t leave because Mac had guilted him into staying, he could call Riley to keep him company.

Mac tried for a few minutes to be happy for Jack, that he wouldn’t have to be alone, that he still had _someone_ to care about that wasn’t a waste of space.

But he couldn’t do it. Not sincerely. He had spent a long time as Jack’s partner-slash-best friend-slash-so…something more, long enough that he’d come to rely on the man’s constant, steady presence. Even before the bite, he’d known Jack viewed him as his kid, and as a newborn wolf, he’d craved the care and security provided by an alpha who could help him adjust to his new life and who had always promised to have his back in any situation.

And since Murdoc…Mac didn’t want to be alone, not for a minute. He fought against Jack’s hovering because he was angry at himself for this all-consuming need, but he really didn’t want Jack to leave. He hated how pathetic and weak and _dependent_ that made him, but he couldn’t help it. If Jack hadn’t been there, Mac would have never made it out of the hospital after he’d been rescued. He would have just given up right then and done his best to waste away quietly, without bothering anyone.

Mac wondered how much Dr. Lightfeld knew about his desperate need for Jack. She had calmly discussed codependency and other manifestations of PTSD, but Mac only listened occasionally, spending a large part of their sessions focusing on Jack’s heartbeat. When it sped up, he knew he needed to pay attention to what was being said because it was making Jack nervous. That was how he had tuned in to hear the therapist offering suggestions about ways they could learn to spend more time apart.

He didn’t think she even realized how bad it was. By tacit consent, Jack and Mac sat close to each other during their sessions but refrained from touching, apart from Jack occasionally patting the young wolf’s shoulder. She couldn’t know that as soon as their hour was finished and they were alone, Mac clawed his way into Jack’s embrace.

At least, Mac hoped she didn’t know. His need for Jack’s affection was beyond embarrassing. And he really hoped she didn’t know that they shared a bed every night. It was bad enough that Riley and Bozer knew—Matty probably did too because she somehow knew _everything_—but Jack had never spoken of it in therapy, and Mac had certainly not mentioned it.

Riley and Bozer had probably told Dr. Lightfeld when they snuck in to see her. Mac glared at the carpet, arms crossed, trying to hide his scowl. They had probably told her everything, the traitors. And that undoubtedly got Dr. Lightfeld on Riley’s side, so of course she didn’t agree when Mac all but accused the girl he’d always considered a sister of usurping his place.

“Agent MacGyver.”

Jack had said he didn’t know Riley was planning to talk to their therapist, but he wasn’t mad at her. Of course not. Why would Jack be mad at Riley? She was everything Mac wasn’t—competent, capable, _unscarred_. Why wouldn’t Jack prefer her? He probably thought she was right. Thought Mac was way too needy, too clingy, too—

“Agent MacGyver!”

Why was he even still messing up Jack’s life? Why was he forcing the man to follow him around, to coddle him like a baby, to protect him and prop him up and prevent him from completely losing his mind? Why couldn’t he just crawl in a hole somewhere and die?

The windows in the office didn’t open. Of course. Mac batted aside the tiny hands that were suddenly blocking his path. He could think of another way. That was the one thing he was still good at. He could always find a way.

He didn’t have the air to scream when a wolf leaped at him, jaws wide, teeth gleaming, snapping at the belt tight around his neck.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: slightly more graphic (but still not very) depiction of the suicide attempt from the previous chapter, aftermath of attempt

Jack hated therapy.

He recognized the good it did—he’d seen more than his fair share of counselors over the years and had ended up appreciating each one to some degree. He still hated therapy.

And he would give anything in the world to be inside that therapy session right now.

He tried to tell himself that this was a good thing. Mac was willing to try spending some time apart, which had been one of the major goals of recovery.

But it felt like his left lung had been removed without anesthesia. His chest was on fire, and he couldn’t breathe properly. The white-noise machine inside Dr. Lightfeld’s office prevented him from hearing anything, even with his ear pressed to the door. He couldn’t see Mac. Couldn’t smell him.

He clung to the reminder that there was only one entrance and one exit—no one could get to Mac except through the door Jack was guarding with his life. And Mac was alone in the office with their therapist. He was safe. He was fine.

Better than fine. He was healing, finding a way to start being independent again.

Jack tried to be happy about that. Mac was probably tired of Jack _helicoptering_ all over him. Jack admitted he could be overbearing at the best of times, and ever since Murdoc…well, it hadn’t exactly been the best of times recently.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be glad about this separation, even though he knew it was only an hour at most. Mac had been upset, so when he’d asked for space, it was probably just because he couldn’t take Jack blundering around him anymore.

Jack had messed up. He knew that. He’d pushed the kid, practically taunted him with the same words Murdoc had used, and then fled without even an apology. He couldn’t blame Mac for wanting some distance.

Jack shifted back into wolf form and flopped on the floor, nose seeking the gap at the bottom of the door. The door fit too closely to the plush carpet for Jack to properly scent the office’s occupants, but it was more comfortable sitting on the floor this way than in human form, so he stayed.

To calm himself, Jack began reviewing the tentative list of goals he and Mac had been developing in their joint sessions. Truthfully, Mac participated very little in the discussion, and Jack spent most of his time watching the kid, so they hadn’t gotten very far. It had mostly been Dr. Lightfeld offering numerous suggestions until Jack simply accepted whatever she’d said most recently, or Mac looked up, his gaze sharpening in that way it did when he was in the zone, for about two minutes appearing to take in every word their therapist said before his attention wandered again.

Acclimating to life as a werewolf was one of the big goals for Mac, while Jack’s was to adjust to having a werewolf partner. Jack recognized he’d gotten the easy job for that one; he didn’t care if Mac were human or wolf, as long as he was by Jack’s side. Hell, Mac could be a zombie for all his partner cared—he would still be Jack’s kid.

So Jack viewed his role in this plan as helping Mac come to terms with his new reality. He honestly didn’t think it would take long. Mac was already getting used to his heightened senses, only occasionally overwhelmed by sounds or scents. They had practiced with his faster reflexes the other day, and Mac had shown himself more than capable, which didn’t surprise Jack in the least. It would take a little longer to learn to deal with the full moon, but Jack had no doubt the kid would manage that in no time at all. It was a bit worrying that Mac hadn’t deliberately shifted since he’d been home, but Jack could justify that, could explain that away as a choice, a preference, a simple favoring of his fully human form. Mac wasn’t used to fangs and teeth, but it certainly wasn’t a _problem_. He could take all the time he wanted.

And Jack planned to be there every step of the way. He’d been protective of his partner before the bite, wanting to keep this special kid—the smartest and purest he’d ever met—safe and to clear the way for him to do his thing. But now…Jack’s instincts had been going crazy since he first scented the newborn wolf. If Mac would allow it, Jack would drag him into his arms and never let him go, petting the young wolf, grooming him, licking his bite wound in a vain attempt to remove the smell of his alpha, a smell that would cling to Mac as long as that evil bastard was alive.

Jack had never had any desire to force himself as an alpha onto anyone, but he wished now that he’d been the one to turn Mac. If he had, none of this would have happened. He would never have done so without Mac’s permission, but he should have done more to encourage it. Should have helped Mac see that being a werewolf could be a good thing, that he would still be _Mac_ even after the change.

He should have been there to protect Mac from Murdoc.

The wolf’s ears pricked up. He’d thought he’d heard Dr. Lightfeld shouting, which didn’t make sense. The experienced psychiatrist _never_ raised her voice. He was on his feet in an instant.

And then the door flew open, Dr. Lightfeld calling, “Agent Dalton!”

Before she’d even finished the words, Jack had shouldered his way past her, diving toward the other occupant of the room, the slim figure standing by the window.

Mac—_his kid_—had his belt secured around his neck, one end wrapped around the curtain rod.

Jack didn’t stop to think. _Couldn’t_ think. He pounced, teeth tearing at the thick leather until Mac collapsed to the floor.

Jack dropped down beside him, panting, not daring to shift back. In human form, he wouldn’t be able to control his tears.

~~~

Mac awoke with full, immediate awareness of where he was and why. Before opening his eyes, he took a minute to catalog.

Hospital gown? Check. The ties of the gown removed? Of course. No belt, no shoes…not even any socks. Mac figured he should be grateful they hadn’t taken his underwear.

Some sort of mittens on his hands? That was an unexpected one. Mac supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He knew as well as anyone how dangerous a wolf’s claws were. And it was better than restraints.

That was probably Jack’s doing. Jack would hate to see the kid tied down almost as much as Mac would hate it.

He slowly realized that he and Jack were not alone in the room.

“I don’t understand, Jack,” Riley was saying, voice catching on sobs. “I thought—”

Jack hummed quietly, not speaking, but Mac knew without looking that he would be holding Riley tight.

“I can’t lose him, Jack,” Riley said in a moment of desperate candor. “He’s—he’s like my brother, you know?”

Jack hummed again, this time in agreement.

“But I don’t know how to help. I just want to _do_ something!”

For a moment, Riley’s sentiment so closely echoed Mac’s own response to difficulties that he felt a connection with her that had been missing since Mu—since he’d come back.

“I know, honey,” Jack was murmuring. “I know.”

“What can I do, Jack? He won’t tell me what he needs, and I—I don’t know, and…” Her voice trailed off in tears, and Jack made soothing nonsensical sounds.

“You’re doin’ everything you can, sweetheart,” Jack said finally. “You and Boze and Matty—you all are.”

Noticeably absent from that list was Jack himself. Mac almost opened his eyes to correct his partner, but Riley beat him to it.

“So are you, Jack. No one’s doing more for him than you.”

Jack huffed softly. “Yeah, right. Doin’ about as much harm as good. More, if this is any indication.”

“It’s not—”

“Don’t say it’s not my fault, Ri.” Jack’s voice was colder, tinged with anger, and even though that anger wasn’t directed at Riley, Mac still felt sorry that she had to be on the receiving end of it. “Don’t see who else there is to blame. After all I put that kid through…”

Riley sighed heavily. “You couldn’t have known—”

“I should have.”

Mac hated that Jack was berating himself for Mac’s idiotic choices.

“Man, if he’ll even still let me near him…” Jack was whispering so quietly that even Mac’s newly enhanced hearing had a hard time picking up the words. “I swear I will never leave his side again. I will never, ever let him outta my sight. If he’ll just—”

Riley made a choking sound, and Jack broke off.

“Jack, you can’t do that to yourself—”

“I’m not doing anything to—”

“You’re not taking care of yourself!” Riley’s voice softened on her next words as though Jack had shushed her so as not to bother Mac. “Jack, I’m worried about you too. You—”

Even without looking, Mac knew Jack was waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t need to worry about—”

“Jack, you might not be the one in the bed right now, but that doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

There was a heavy pause.

“Ri, I ‘preciate the concern, all right? But nothing matters—_nothing_ matters except that kid right there.”

“But—”

“No.” Jack’s voice was firm, indicating it was the end of the conversation. “I’m sorry, Riles, but the world can burn as far as I’m concerned, as long as Mac is okay. That is all that’s important. And I am gonna be right here until he tells me otherwise.” Jack seemed to think about that for a moment. “In fact, even if he tells me otherwise. He ain’t gettin’ rid of me until he’s a hundred percent. So just don’t even start, okay, honey? I don’t need a break; I don’t need to rest. _I just need Mac_.”

Mac felt tears sting his eyes, so he kept them closed as Riley said she was going for coffee.

“Mm-hm, that’s fine. I’ll be right here.” The word _always_ went unspoken.

Mac listened as Riley closed the door quietly behind her. Despite his surprise, he forced himself not to react when Jack settled on the bed next to him instead of in the bedside chair. But he couldn’t keep from tilting his head toward the fingers running through his hair.

“You wakin’ up, buddy?” Jack’s voice was gentle, coaxing.

Mac groaned in response.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. They used the full werewolf tranq when—” Jack broke off, unwilling to recall his partner fighting against the medical staff when they’d first rushed to his aid in Dr. Lightfeld’s office, his claws just barely missing the paramedics before they’d sedated him. In the medical wing, Jack had managed to keep the kid out of restraints only by promising to intervene—in wolf form, if necessary—if Mac lashed out again. “You’ve been out for about six hours, kiddo,” Jack said instead.

Mac groaned again and fought his eyelids until they opened a slit.

“There he is.” Jack’s voice was soft and awe-filled, as if he were witnessing a miracle instead of a dumb kid who couldn’t do a single thing right. “You want some water?”

Mac’s throat was slightly sore—he winced as he imagined the bruise on his neck—but six hours was enough healing time that it wasn’t too bad. He let Jack hold the cup of water and sipped through the straw.

“’M sorry,” he finally mumbled when he thought he could manage the words.

Jack froze.

“I—” Mac struggled to articulate his whirling thoughts but couldn’t seem to pin them down and settled for repeating, “I’m sorry.”

Jack found his voice. “Stop that.” He cleared his throat. “W-we’ll talk later. But you don’t owe me _any_ apologies, you hear me?”

“B—”

“None. I…I’m the one who needs to apologize, okay? And I will. I’ll make it up to you, kid, somehow, if you’ll let me. I promise.”

Mac hated that Jack was beating himself up, but he didn’t have the energy to cut through his partner’s rambling.

Jack noticed his eyes sliding shut again. “You just rest up right now. I’ll be right here, okay?”

Mac nodded, eyes closed. “’Kay.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

The words were meant to be soothing, Mac could tell, but he grimaced at the implication. “Sev—sev’ty-two h’rs?”

Jack smoothed a hand over the kid’s hair. “Yeah, pup. Seventy-two hours here. And I’m gonna be right here the whole time, if that’s all right with you.”

Mac grunted, but it wasn’t loud enough.

“Mac? That all right?”

After another failed attempt at speech, Mac twitched one of his hands toward Jack. He growled at not being able to grip his partner’s hand with his bandaged fingers, but Jack saw the movement and caught Mac’s arm, squeezing gently.

“All right,” Jack breathed. “Just rest now. It’s gonna be okay.”

Mac really wished he could believe that.

~~~

Mac drifted into consciousness to the soft mumble of voices that were clearly doing their best _not_ to wake him up.

“It’s okay, Jack. You can stay there.” Bozer.

“You sure? He’s totally out.” Mac felt Jack’s hand run gently through his hair, and he kept his eyes closed, focusing on the feeling of safety and care. “And even if he wakes up, he wouldn’t mind if you were here instead of me.” Jack added the last part hastily, as if realizing his mistake.

But Bozer’s voice is still calm. “It’s really okay, man. Don’t sweat it.” A hand, smaller and smoother than Jack’s, rubbed Mac’s arm, and the young wolf melted under the touch, nestling deeper into the warm, solid chest underneath him. “Besides, I’m not sure we could pull him off you.”

Jack just huffed in response, nosing at Mac’s hairline and pressing his lips to his kid’s forehead. “Not like I have anywhere better to be.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bozer’s voice held nothing but fondness, and Jack finally dared meet his eyes.

“Hey, Boze?”

Bozer’s hand stilled on Mac’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Are we—I mean, thanks for lookin’ out for him. You’re—the best friend a guy could have, you know?”

Bozer smiled. “Thanks, but I think that honor belongs to you.”

_I can have two best friends_, Mac thought fuzzily, but didn’t bother making the effort to speak.

Jack shook his head. “Nah. I mean it. You—he’s lucky to have you.” He hesitated and then added, “We all are.”

“That mean I’m part of your pack or whatever now?” Bozer sounded amused.

Jack laughed out loud, muffling the sound quickly and patting Mac’s back apologetically. “You _have_ been, Boze. Practically since we first met.”

Bozer let out a breath as though he wanted to laugh and then thought better of it. “Really?” he finally asked quietly.

“Of course.”

“But I’m not a werewolf.”

Jack shrugged. “Neither was Mac until—neither was Mac. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t part of the pack. Pack is family, Bozer.”

Bozer swallowed hard. “I—I’ve kind of been a jerk to you lately.”

“No—”

“Yes. I just—”

“Boze. Seriously, it’s all good. You were lookin’ out for our boy, and I can never repay you for that. You can be mad at me all you want. Lord knows I deserve it, and I owe you a better apology than you got for the other night. I’m sorry for blaming you. You’ve been nothin’ but good to him, and I know you think it’s my fault that—well, you’re right about that.”

“Wait, what?”

“I know that’s why you’ve been kinda givin’ me the cold shoulder, and it’s fine. I deserve that.”

“Jack…” Bozer said slowly. “You think it’s _your_ fault Mu—Mac got taken?”

“It is.” Jack wouldn’t usually admit it so simply, but he was exhausted and stressed and guilty, and he _owed_ Bozer.

“Um, no.” Bozer shook his head. “Nah, man, it really isn’t.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You think I’ve been _blaming_ you this whole time?”

“Hey, Boze, it’s fine. I get it—”

“You don’t, Jack. You really, really don’t.”

“Huh?”

“I never blamed you, Jack. Okay, maybe for like one hot second, but Riley set me straight pretty quick.”

Jack blinked. “Y’know, maybe it’s the not sleeping for twenty-eight hours, but I’m not followin’.”

Bozer sighed heavily. “Is this how Mac feels when he has to explain something to me?” he wondered rhetorically. “Jack. You are not responsible for Murdoc. None of us ever thought so. Just you.” He snorted. “We’re all pretty good at the blame game. I even thought it was _my_ fault for a while there—”

“Wait a sec. Why would—”

Bozer waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Riley cleared that up too. She’s…pretty awesome, you know.”

Jack grinned. “I know. That’s why she and this one get along so well.” He tipped his head toward to prone figure on the bed. “They’re practically twins.”

Bozer chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that.”

They were silent for a while, and Mac wondered if he should admit to being awake.

“Hey, Boze?”

“Yeah?”

“If you didn’t think it was my fault, how come—how come—”

Bozer took a deep breath. “I was just…being an idiot. That’s all.”

Jack hummed skeptically.

“No, seriously. I was…jealous, I guess, for lack of a better word.”

“Of _me_?” Jack’s eyebrows shot up.

“No, of the Hamburglar.” Bozer rolled his eyes. “Of course of you. Who did Mac always turn to? Who did he want to spend all his time with?”

“I’m never gonna replace you.” Jack’s voice was low and serious.

“I know. I get it. He needs different things from different people, and that’s okay.”

“Well, all right then. You know I respect the hell outta you, man. Don’t ever doubt how important you are, you hear me?”

Bozer grinned slightly. “Yeah, see, I always thought that was you bossing Mac around.”

“What?”

“You’d say stuff like that, and Mac would think about it, you know how he does, with the scrunched-up nose and wrinkly eyebrows—”

Jack gusted a laugh, and Mac thought he should be offended, but he was too tired.

“—and then he’d just _do_ it. Because you told him to.”

“Boze—”

“But you know what? I had it backwards. When it counts, he does what he wants, what he thinks is best, always, and—I don’t know—maybe you just got good at predicting what he wanted to do.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully.

“Because here’s what I know, Mr. Alpha Wolf or whatever you are. You do whatever he says. Every time.”

“That’s—” Jack’s protest died almost immediately. “Um, yeah, I guess that’s actually true.” He chuckled. “Don’t tell Matty I let a pup boss me around, huh?”

“I’m pretty sure she knows, Jack.” Bozer sounded smug. “I think everybody knows.”

Jack groaned, but his voice was light. “Gonna have to do something to keep all the kids in line. Man, I already got Mac sassin’ me and tellin’ me what to do, and Riley thinkin’ she knows best, and now you gangin’ up on me…”

“Better get used to it, Jack. After all, you said it.”

Jack returned the smile, grateful beyond belief for this remarkable human.

“Pack is family.”

~~~

“Seventy-two hours is totally arbitrary, you know.”

Jack looked up from the chicken breast he was cutting. “Yeah? How do you figure?”

Mac was sitting back against the bed, which had been raised to a nearly ninety-degree angle. He looked irritated, but Jack could tell it was what he privately called “scientific aggravation” and not a more personal anger.

“That isn’t the highest-risk time for a—another attempt.”

Jack hummed, not trusting himself to speak, and speared a piece of meat with a plastic fork, holding it to Mac’s lips. The kid accepted it absently.

After Jack had taken a bite himself, he ventured, “Is there a highest-risk time?”

Mac wrinkled his nose. “Gross. Nobody wants to see what’s in your mouth, Jack.”

Jack stuffed another piece in his mouth and chewed more loudly, just to be obnoxious.

Mac rolled his eyes but opened his mouth when Jack offered more chicken. After chewing and swallowing carefully, he said, “Yeah. Up to a third of—of attempters try again within two years.”

Jack looked down, fiddling with the fork in his hands.

“Just…not usually so fast. So the first seventy-two hours…doesn’t really make sense.”

Jack managed to keep his voice steady by pretending the tines of the fork were intensely fascinating. “You get points for the stats, but not your best attempt to get out of medical, son.”

Mac huffed, and Jack looked up to see him crossing his arms. “I wasn’t trying to get out.”

“Good, ‘cause it ain’t gonna—”

“I was just saying it doesn’t really make sense. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well, lots of things don’t make sense.” Including the topic they’d been dancing around for the past sixty-odd hours. This was the closest Mac had come to bringing it up, and Jack found himself holding his breath, wondering if the kid would say any more.

After a long pause, he did.

“I wasn’t—that isn’t what I was trying to do, Jack.”

Jack bit back the harsh response on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah?” he managed finally.

“Yeah.”

“So…”

Mac shrugged. “I just…wanted it to stop.”

Jack nodded slowly. “Okay. Do you think—” He broke off, not sure how to formulate the questions he wanted to ask.

“I’m not going to do it again.”

Jack wished he felt more relief. “Kid, I’d like to believe that,” he said very quietly.

“I mean i—”

“I know you mean it, but—Mac, were you even thinkin’?” Jack already knew he hadn’t been. And that was what made icy fingers grip his heart.

If Mac had truly been trying, no one could have stopped him.

Mac attempted a small smile. “No. I wouldn’t have done that in front of Dr. Lightfeld if I hadn’t…” He looked away. “I just wanted to stop thinking.”

“Mac.” Jack pushed the forgotten tray away so he could shift closer to his partner. The bed was a tight fit for two grown men, but they had still spent most of the past two and a half days next to each other. Matty, bless her, had convinced Mac’s doctor that Mac didn’t need to be in a glass-walled observation room because at least one of the team would always be with him.

Mac let Jack put an arm around him and dropped his head on his partner’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I scared you, and I’m sorry.”

Jack tightened his arms around his kid. “Yeah. You scared me all right, son.”

Mac waited, but this wasn’t followed by any ridiculous, over-the-top threats. He swallowed hard. Jack must be really hurting.

“I wish…” Jack trailed off and then tried again. “Kiddo, I would do anything in the world to help you. I just—just don’t know how. You gotta help me out, bud. Please. Tell me what you need. I swear I’ll do it.”

Mac shook his head slightly, wishing Jack’s heartbeat didn’t betray his stress.

“Okay. It’s okay if you don’t know. But you gotta talk to me _while you’re thinking about it_, okay? You know that helps you get ideas.”

Jack was right, Mac realized with a start of surprise. Talking aloud helped him formulate plans, and Jack’s non sequiturs, off-the-wall rants, rambling stories, and mangled pronunciation absurdly helped him focus. There was just one problem…

Mac plucked up his courage. “You might not like what I say.”

Jack snorted. “That’s never stopped you before.”

“Yeah, but—” Mac snapped his mouth shut.

“But what, kid?”

Mac rolled over, turning his back to his partner. He couldn’t move away from him without falling off the bed, but at least he didn’t have to look at him.

“Hey. Pup, come here.”

Mac didn’t turn.

“Mac.”

No response.

“Angus MacGyver, you look at me right now!”

Mac knew better than to refuse. He twisted slightly to look up at Jack from the corner of his eye.

“You think if I don’t like somethin’ you say, I’m leavin’?” Jack sounded angry. “That is the dumbest—Mac, you are not that dumb.”

Mac narrowed his eyes in a glare.

“There is _nothing_ you could say that would make me leave you. You hear me? _Nothing_. I am by your side _forever_.”

Mac’s expression softened as he turned to face his partner a little more fully.

“I love you, man. Like—you don’t even know. And I choose _you_. I will always choose you.”

“More than—” Mac hesitated.

Jack let out a breath. “More than anyone, son. More than anything. You are—you’re my partner, Mac. My—my kid.”

Mac closed his eyes to hide the glimmer of tears, faintly ashamed of himself. He shouldn’t cry over Jack calling him _his kid_.

“Hey.” Jack nudged him until he was tucked back into the alpha’s side. “You are more important than _anything_. You hear me, pup?”

Mac buried his face in Jack’s shoulder. “I hear you.”

“Okay,” Jack said softly. “We’ll figure it out. Well, I mean, you’ll figure it out, ‘cause that’s what you do, but I’ll be right there with you when you do, all right?”

A week ago, Mac would have simply nodded along because he knew that was the response Jack wanted. But now he was remembering all the times over the years the two had disagreed. As the team could attest, Jack and Mac did not always see eye to eye.

But that had never made Jack leave.

In fact, in the last few weeks, Jack had tolerated being shouted at and having things thrown at him. He’d put up with Mac’s clinginess, his stubbornness, even his hurled insults. The only time he had ever left was when he thought it was his fault Mac was hurt.

He hadn’t gone running to Riley. Mac knew that now. He could be grateful she had shown up in time to prevent Jack from injuring himself. He was embarrassed to admit how jealous he’d been. Jack had an inkling, of course, but he said Riley never had to know unless Mac wanted to tell her. Dr. Lightfeld, on the other hand, when she had visited her patients in the medical wing, had said something about not keeping secrets, no matter how big or small.

Maybe he’d tell Riley someday. He didn’t really think he deserved this family—Riley and Bozer, the best siblings he could ever wish for; Matty, who was so much more than his boss…and Jack.

He didn’t deserve Jack. But Jack had made it clear that he wouldn’t choose anyone else.

“What if I don’t figure it out?” The question was a test, meant to make sure Jack wouldn’t get angry about Mac arguing with him, but he also thought it was possible that things would never go back to normal. Maybe this was normal now.

Jack was calm. “You will.”

“But—”

“And if you don’t, then we’ll just keep going with what we have now. Doesn’t have to be like it was before.” Jack’s casual tone slipped into a more serious timbre. “You don’t have to work for Phoenix. Don’t have to hunt werewolves. Don’t have to fix everything you see.” He cleared his throat. “You just have to get up every day and keep going. That’s all. You let me stay right next to you, and I don’t need anything else.”

Mac cleared his own throat, looking down at his hands that were finally out of the protective mittens. They still looked capable, he realized. Like they could still do something good. He imagined them with claws, and the thought didn’t make him shudder. The claws could be useful too, maybe, if he were ever without his Swiss Army knife. He pictured them slicing through wires, cleanly marking off notches on a board, tearing strips of cloth. He could find a use for them.

He realized Jack was still watching him, silently offering him an opportunity to speak. He cleared his throat once more.

“Yeah. I—I think I’ve got everything I need, too.”

~~~

_Two months later…_

“You did good today, Blondie.”

Mac quirked an eyebrow at his boss. “It was a milk run.”

“It was,” she acknowledged coolly. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t necessary. And there were no…_mishaps_, so that’s a win in my book.”

“Me too!” Riley plopped into the deck chair next to Mac, and he passed her the beer he’d saved for her.

“Anybody hungry?” Bozer leaned through the glass doors. When he received only groans and complaints of being too full already, he joined the others around the firepit.

“Where are Sam and Jack?” Riley asked.

“Uh, comparing battle scars, I think,” Mac replied around a yawn. A fuzzy throw blanket hit him in the face, and he opened his eyes to glare at Bozer, only to realize it was Matty who had thrown it. And from the look she was giving him, he shouldn’t refuse it. “Thanks,” he mumbled instead.

Riley groaned. “Suppose he’s gotten to the one about the werewolf who—according to Jack—was also a ninja?”

“He generally leads with that one.” Mac smirked.

“Yeah, even I’ve heard that one three or four times,” Bozer chimed in. “It gets a little better every time, though, so it’s worth hearing.”

“A little more unbelievable, you mean.”

Bozer grinned at Riley. “Yeah, well, those are the best stories.”

Mac leaned back, enjoying the heat from the fire and the softness of the blanket. Dr. Lightfeld had talked about finding small things that helped him feel more grounded, little touchpoints that helped him appreciate each moment. With her encouragement, he’d created a Venn diagram comparing his old life and his new one. Listed in the chart, the differences didn’t seem so bad; some changes were even beneficial—it was his superior werewolf hearing that had detected the cocking of a gun behind the door so they avoided walking into friendly fire.

And there were more things that had stayed the same than had changed.

Matty was still the same. Composed, tough as nails, and fiercely caring. She’d allowed Mac time in the lab, under her direct supervision, before he was cleared to return to field work. And although she was easing him back in slowly, she still counted on him, listened to him, challenged him, and when it came down to it, trusted his judgment.

Riley had been deeply shaken, but she was still the same. Smart, gifted, endlessly dedicated to her work and to her family, and when she was in the right mood, sneakily playful. She and Mac had a daily challenge. One would choose a word, and the other would have to get Jack to say it by the end of the day. They were still debating if _calliope_ were close enough to _calipers_ to count.

Bozer had overcome his initial hesitance regarding werewolves, and he was still Mac’s best friend, solid, dependable, and passionately loyal. He and Mac had compiled a list of every werewolf movie ever made, and they were working through them, laughing at the mistakes, gorging themselves on miniature burgers or fried shrimp.

And Jack…Jack was one of the few things in Mac’s diagram that was listed in both the “same” and “new” categories. Mac knew his partner still had nightmares, although not quite as frequently as Mac himself did, because they had agreed to call each other, regardless of the time, when they woke up from one. And Jack was even more tactile than he’d been before, rarely more than arm’s length away from Mac when they were in the same room.

But he was still Jack. Still the first to be Mac’s backup. Still wise-cracking and purposely annoying and unintentionally geeky. He picked Mac up every morning for work now, true, but they had the same fights over music, the same bantering that only ended when they needed to focus on the job. He still believed in Mac, thought he was strong and smart and competent, and he still followed Mac’s lead when they were working and the kid suggested a seemingly insane plan.

Jack continued to visit Dr. Lightfeld too, even after she had signed them both back to work. Their sessions were back-to-back now instead of together, and they rarely discussed them with each other. But the efforts they were putting into therapy were obvious to everyone. There were no more screaming matches, no more meltdowns, and few panic attacks. Jack and Mac still spent most of their waking hours together, and they called each other far more frequently than they ever had before, but they were beginning to acknowledge that the time they spent apart was healthy, was actually good for them so they didn’t irritate each other so much.

Mac didn’t spend time at the house alone yet—Jack or Riley or Bozer or Matty or some combination thereof was always ready to keep him company. But he felt better at Phoenix and had spent some relaxing hours in the labs and offices there without running into another soul.

And true, Jack had spent a few nights sleeping—well, not _sleeping_ so much as _watching_—in his car outside Mac and Bozer’s place before he was finally able to go to his own apartment. And yes, Mac had spent several nights obsessively checking the locks on the doors and windows and perfecting an alarm on his own bedroom door that would go off if he didn’t enter a code so that if he were ever compelled outside, there would be plenty of warning. But over the last few weeks, they had started to settle into a routine.

Mac relaxed back into his chair. Matty and Bozer and Riley were talking quietly, and pretty soon Cage and Jack would arrive. Jack would stay behind when the others left to say goodnight, but unless Mac asked him to stay—which he did less and less often now—Jack would head out too.

_We don’t need perfect_, Mac recited Dr. Lightfeld’s mantra to himself. _We just need progress_.

Jack came bustling in, mid-rant, and took the beer Bozer held out for him. He stopped talking when his gaze landed on Mac, and he smiled softly instead. Mac raised his drink in a silent toast, and Jack mirrored the action.

_To progress._

_To pack._

_To family._


End file.
